Air Castle
by Spylace
Summary: Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out. Spoilers for DiamondDust Rebellion later
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Air Castle

**Chapters:** 1/?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach**

**Pairings:** none in this chapter

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary: **Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human one morning, not everyone can like the results. (because thinking of a summary is harder than you think oy-)

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Waking up, he found that the world was obnoxiously bright and the pounding at the door, obscenely loud in his ears. Yelling out few incoherent words, he made it known to the person on the other side of the door as well as everyone else in the apartment complex that he was very much alive, awake, and not too happy about it. 

He stuck a toothbrush in his mouth, red bodied with firm bristles that hurt his gums. He began to fumble around for a towel while absentmindedly running a hand into his scalp. Jerking sideways as he inadvertently pulled out strands of inky black hair; he finished brushing his teeth and began to work on his hair to make it presentable to the human world.

'3... 2... 1...'

The door burst open briskly, the lock having broken sometime in the last year. He stared balefully, confused and not at all pleased at the intrusion as a burly senior pushed him over and forced him to abdicate his place by the grimy sink. Sighing, the skinnier junior spat the mouthful of foam into the drainage. Shooting the senior a half-wearied half-annoyed look, he stomped out of the bathroom.

'...Easy...'

'...kill...'

'Snap...'

He imagined sinking claws into the soft flesh. It would be easy to carve out the meat from the brittle ribs, to tear off the legs and nibble on the tender muscle and fat. Blood would rush, flowing over his claws as the bones gave away beneath him. As much as he loved the cold, he loved still-warm and breathing meat.

He spat out the stale rice and all was silent.

He was immediately pulled to his feet by his ear. Indignation preceded the cowardliness in dealing with the stout woman and he snapped his teeth much to her surprise. The initial shock faded away in anger at the rejection of her hard work and the newly sparked defiance shown. Screaming, she herded him up the stairs and cowed him into his room. She continued to yell the better part of her smoke-riddled (she had a nasty habit of burning everything that got into her chubby little hands) lungs out as he furiously heaped his books into his book bag and put on his wrinkled uniform.

She promptly proceeded to chase him out the window using a worn broom. He was ever thankful that it was only the first floor and not the third. He rolled in the dirt, the woman's face sending spit into his face as he scrambled out of her view.

Muttering he lashed out, not understanding why he was so angry though it hadn't been the first time he had woken to the rough treatment. Kicking a stray can he realized that he had felt that he should have been treated better, respected and perhaps even liked or loved. Grumbling, he smashed the can flat and abandoned it on the sidewalk, taking his time to walk to school since it was only seven or so in the morning.

His stomach rumbled harshly. He winced, wistfully thinking of snow and water and all things cold in the world.

'It could have been worse.'

'**How?'**

'Hollows.'

'**Hollows...'**

He snorted and shook his head. Few people waiting at the bus stop looked his way, he glared back.

Hollows were weak, tough-skinned and rarely good enough to eat. But they were dangerous little buggers and a constant nuisance to his shinigami. What was he if he didn't abide by his duty and keep his shinigami safe?

'**Shinigami...'**

"Huh..." he said aloud, his throat feeling parched and dry. "How do I know that?"

A battle...

"_There you are..."_

He turned around and was disappointed when he found nothing. He had been hoping for... he didn't exactly know what he was hoping for. He had expected to see a crown of white and perhaps a glimpse of stubborn green eyes. He yawned, bored, they would meet soon enough.

'**Who?'**

'Toushiro, the little midget of a...'

Who was _Toushiro_? There was no student with white hair. At least not at their school and certainly no one he had ever met before.

Of course he was not going insane.

-x-

At school he went through the usual motions of the monotonous student life. Bigger students bullied him, smaller ones avoided him. Girls giggled behind his back and guys purposely left him out of the better part of their soccer games. Anger boiled inside of him.

He wasn't to be ignored!

By chance a stray soccer ball had rolled by his feet. Seething but with no real solution to relieve his sudden bout of anger he kicked it...

...and sent it

...crashing straight into

…someone's

...face.

A senior to be exact, one who had been kicking around a lone freshman earlier just as he had kicked the soccer ball. The black and white ball came off with a loud peeling sound. An impressive pattern of red pentagons lined the other's face. Again, silence just like at the communal cafeteria-slash-kitchen back in the dormitories, then the inexplicable sound of applause as students all around them clapped and whistled in appreciation at his apparent stupidity and suicidal urges.

He was doomed.

He smiled as pleasantly as possible, a feat possible due to his lack of enormous fangs that surely would have been useful at this point in time. Then he turned tail and ran.

'I eat hollows for breakfast, beat up arrancars for lunch and spar with other captains for dinner, now I'm running from a human.'

Which was easier said then done,

Students had gathered around when they heard that some idiot junior had challenged an upperclassman. Eager eyes pried into him as he parted the shuffling bodies for a way out. Meanwhile, behind him, students were thrown left and right as 'Takahashi-sempai' bellowed and plowed his way through the crowd to catch the retard that had kicked a soccer ball into his face.

'I need a way out!'

He nearly fell on his face as the student body gave away to an empty route into the building.

Trumpets might have well been blaring and angels might have well been singing. (the image of Kenpachi Zaraki of the eleventh division wearing a halo and donning wings made him break out in desperate laughter)

Dragging in a deep breath he ran.

-x-

'If only I could fly...'

He thought wistfully kicking his legs beneath him. He was currently sitting on the rooftop, hiding out from the seniors as he planned out his course of escape. Missing classes would entail a call to the dorms which would inevitably lead to the she-hulk getting on his case.

'If only it would rain or snow...'

But he knew that to be impossible. Hadn't he seen the newspaper on the stands solemnly stating that there were less than zero chance or rain and shower in the next few weeks ahead? At this gloomy thought, the fluffy white clouds that had come to look so promising cleared away almost magically. He dropped his chin to his knees and gritted his teeth as a random yell was cut short by an obvious intervention of a teacher.

Break was over, he could go down. He would be reprimanded for sure for being late but it beat getting the shit pounded out of him.

'I should be doing that to them.' He thought darkly and reached for the door towards the stairs. 'I should be the one beating them up; they have no right to do that to me...'

He didn't know why but he felt that his day just about to get worse.

-x-

He supposed a full five minutes in front of class getting yelled at by the teacher wasn't too bad. It was something he went through everyday. The trouble started when he sat down by his seat (or what he assumed to be his seat because he didn't see any others). A crumpled up ball of paper hit his head and landed expertly on his desk. He unfolded it and found a quick scribble of, 'Is it true? You broke Takahashi-sempai's nose? _-Asuka_'

Well, he did kick the soccer ball into the senior's face. He hadn't known that he had actually broken something though it explained the dogged determination that followed the remainder of the lunch break.

'Who's Asuka?'

'**Behind you.'**

He turned his head and briefly he caught a glimpse of a blonde staring listlessly out the window.

'Couldn't be...'

For unknown reasons, it felt as if the burden on his shoulders had lightened. He was not alone in this.

'Kurosaki?'

The young man turned with a scowl on his face. He recoiled briefly; he had not realized that he had spoken out aloud. Making sure that the teacher was still enticed with drawing out a diagram from the textbook the strawberry-blonde mouthed, 'What do you want?'

What did he want? The question confused him. He had assumed that his problems would be solved once he got a hold of a familiar face but weren't his classmates all pretty much familiar to him?

'**As in you know them, you've never spoke to them, and they will never speak to you.'**

Impatient, the boy turned away from him in pursuit of staring at the clear, blue sky. He sank into his seat, disheartened.

The rest of the class he doodled four-petal flowers into his notes, just three and made sure to color them in before the class was over.

-x-

They were waiting for him at the gates and strangely he did not care at all. Seven classes he had entered and exited without being even slightly enlightened as to why he was feeling a sense of displacement. He had his socks on correctly; he even made sure that his pencils were nice and sharp though one had become dull after coloring in multiple copies of flower each period.

Ten pencils, ten for each claws?

He stood by the fountain, enticed by the smooth curves of the water curling in the air. The droplets of water, drying on the uneven stone, winked at him. He stepped sideways as a bulky teenager fell into the waters, gaping as he slung his arms around the rim. He stared down scornfully at the huffing figure.

'He dared to best me in my own element?'

Apparently someone did, and as he crouched down, a fist went sailing over his head. A body, unable to stop its motion, slammed into him and dragged him down into the lukewarm water.

Air bubbled out of his mouth and nose and he imagined that he had a snout, something filled with sharp-edged teeth to slice into the thick arms binding him to the bottom of the fountain.

He could never turn down a good challenge; he let the last of his air free from his mouth and bit hard.

Within seconds he was thrown out of the water as a senior danced madly around the fountain blowing on his hand. He shuddered and coughed out the dirty foam gathered between his jaws and struggled to get up. Students massed all around them, their eyes alight with strange sort of fire, waiting for something to happen. A kick to his kidney rolled him to his side. It was unbearably hot out in the sun and was almost incomparable to the situation _he_ had been in but he couldn't help but make the connection.

The same helplessness...

"_I will kill you..._"

When the words were uttered the senior began to laugh. The kind of laughter one makes when the situation is neither funny nor sad but with nothing to be said to. The throng of thugs behind him also took the cue until the uproar of grunting sounds meshed with obligatory howls spun around his head and forced him up on his knees.

He had never heard the laughter directed at him before (or none that he cared to remember) and paused poignantly as he gripped a stick like a sword in his fingers.

A flash of bright orange, Kurosaki and two girls pushed their way towards the inside. Kuchiki and the other girl they had been after, who was it? Orihime. He smiled to himself wanting to tell them that it was ok and to get out here before the situation worsened. His head spun and he thought that perhaps he had done this before, except the stick was he and the one holding him was...

"For you Toushiro..."

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**A.N.:** 'Thoughts' aligned to the left are mostly passive thoughts, the ones centered are active/conversational thoughts. 

Soo... what do you think? And click on that pretty lavender button on the bottom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 2/?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none in this chapter

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human one morning, not everyone can like the results. (because thinking of a summary is harder than you think oy-)

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He made it back to the dormitories as if nothing had happened. The stout harpy yelled at him for ruining his uniform and threatened to send him to school only in his boxers. He waved away the threat knowing that it was the weekend tomorrow. He felt oddly light as if with each step it would bring him closer to getting off from the ground forever. He felt as if he could fly and felt that it would be perfect if they were snowed in over the weekend (though he hated the dour mood of having students cramped in close quarters) and settled for rain as he took a shower and locked himself in his room. Dinner was a quiet affair for someone must have tattled the events at school. The caretaker gave him an evil eye and muttered about uncultured hooligans. He listened to the hushed voices behind doors and pieced together what might have happened that even he could not remember clearly. He laughed to himself once he heard that 'Takahashi-sempai' had gone to the hospital to get his jaw wired. 

At one in the morning, he snuck out.

-x-

The air was cool and he could feel a storm approaching. Already he could see the telltale signs of clouds thickening past the horizon. The moon became obscured in a fog and mist surrounded his bare skin. He lifted his fingers to his eyes, finding them foreign but completely familiar as he examined every crease and fold and cracked nails. He saw that he hadn't been taking care of himself lately and sighed.

'I'm not supposed to be here.'

'**Of course you're supposed to be here. Past curfew and perverts and drunkards could be about, why shouldn't you be here?'**

'Nearly killed a human...'

'**You beat him up, in self-defense. Takahashi already had a criminal record building up anyways.'**

'Didn't mean I had to take apart his face... did I stab him with my pencils?'

'**You missed.'**

He didn't know whether he should have been relieved or not.

He was in the deserted park. With a tired sigh he sat down on the swing and kicked his legs. The gentle motion soothed him. He always did think better when flying. Wings were overrated sometimes; they impeded the speed of flight. It was exhilarating to spiral down towards the ground and pull up at the last minute. It never failed to scare Toushiro out of his wits when he did it. He supposed that Toushiro's flight put him on the edge as well though he trusted the boy more than anyone could ever imagine.

"Toushiro..."

A flash of white, teeth, snake-eyes, and a castle of sand.

'It isn't like me to be so depressing.'

He jumped off the swing and stretched. He barely ducked as the swing swung back towards him. Grinning slightly he kicked the ground and began to jog, intent on running a lap around the park before going back to his bed. He was only able to penetrate three strides into the woods before a giant claw sunk into the earth before him.

The rotted ears twitched as the Hollow gave off a booming squawk. He backed off against a tree and stared hard. The bulbous fish-like eyes stared back. Sweat trickling down his face, he blinked. The Hollow gave a smaller but no less threatening cry. He blinked once more praying that the Hollow was some crazy nightmare gone wrong and that he would wake up off his bed with a bad tempered woman standing imposingly over him.

The shuffling movement spurred him into action. He ducked and rolled forward between the Hollow's legs. The Hollow squawked and swung its claws wildly scratching him deeply in the knees as he staggered onto his feet.

'I have better claws then that.'

'**What are you thinking, just run!'  
**

He dodged the falling branches and threw himself into the bushes of the forest. He wasn't exactly sure how he knew things but he trusted his instincts and eyesight enough to keep away from the monstrosity chasing him. He realized that the situation was a sick parody of the one played out in the school grounds the day before and wondered why he had to leave the relative comfort of his scratchy sheets and go out for an after-midnight jog.

Perhaps he would get an answer after accepting his mortality.

Adrenaline flowed through his body and he put a distance between him and the large Hollow. He wasn't watching where he was going and soon slammed into a jagged wall. He landed on his back and read in disbelief as the moon shed faint light upon the brass plaque.

A climbing wall.

When had they installed that?

He flipped himself over and brushed the offending dirt and leaves from his hair.

The Hollow was getting closer. Funny how a hollow he could have easily eaten and spat out as toothpicks was now attempting to eat him. Even funnier when he realized that the hollow was a gross magnification of a dead rabbit with giant claws sewn onto its paws.

Ok, that wasn't_ that_ funny.

So why couldn't he escape again?

A wall a god-be-_damned _wall and the hell if he was going to stay there to be eaten.

He scuttled into a running start and went around the wall into a secondary playground when the hollow stuck its claws into the concrete wall and sliced it in half like it was melted butter. Fragments of concrete sprayed onto him and he raised his arms to guard his face. He fell as the Hollow jumped up and landed on top of the broken wall. It squawked almost happily as he fell sideways, his legs twisted in the thick rope that had once been a part of the climbing wall. With a sickening crack, his ankle broke and he slammed his head against the sandbox, dazedly staring up and the saliva-coated maw.

How did he get into these situations anyways?

An odd thought crept into his mind.

'I shouldn't be here playing with the Hollow, Toushiro had been fighting him. He needs help.'

'**Who?'**

He couldn't rip through the hollow easily in his present state, but he was far from helpless. He had not lasted eons without learning a few tricks of his own.

Water? Ice?

Pain jumbled his mind into a never ending circle.

Karakura, where in Karakura?

Was there somebody close enough to call for help?

Would they believe?

'**I wouldn't for one...'**

Was he going to die?

Where was Toushiro?

Hail, Hyourinmaru found dead in Karakura, half eaten by Hollows!

'**MOVE!'**

He breathed out shakily. The Hollow withdrew its ugly face. It tossed its head back and swallowed the jaw full of sand and gravel. It let out a low moaning sound, caught half way between a bay and a burp. It blinked stupidly, its snot-coated whiskers twitching as the identity of the contents it just swallowed reached its nonexistent brain. He fought an urge to snicker as he got up despite the hot pain grappling his lower leg.

The Hollow let out another odd moaning sound and thrust its head forward. He didn't move as the Hollow made a series of clucks and began to walk in shuffling circles around him. He eyed the patch fur and decayed flesh, facial features contorting in disgust and contempt. His fist clenched –just when had he been reduced to dealing with mere Hollows?

The Hollow chirped despairingly as it caught the end of a particularly withering glare. That wasn't how its preys looked before they died. The only ones that looked inedible were stronger of its kind or shinigami. But hunger for both nourishment and power won over as it opened its mouth once more. Ears laying flat against its neck and spine, it charged forward with its spiked tongue flailing. He snarled and launched a fist against its flaring nose, frost encasing his knuckles and wrist as the Hollow withdrew, most of its face covered in snow and ice.

'Did I just...'

'**...attack a Hollow only using your fists...?'**

Shaking his head, he took that as a cue to run.

-x-

Well he tried to run.

The best he could do was a half-leaping hobble as he made his way out of the park. A road appeared; seemingly empty with the traffic light above flashing bright, tomato red. The light turned green, he sat down and hurriedly ripped open the pant leg of his injured ankle. He quickly turned his head away. His foot was twisted at an angle and was heavily swollen. He sighed and seeing that the light was red again he began to stumble across the road.

With a deafening roar something heavy caught him in the ribs and threw him overhead. Head still ringing from impact with the concrete road, he heard the scraping of metal as whatever that had hit him crashed into the streetlight. Just moments later a young man came up to him, his jaw slack and spouting out curses. With a broken bottle in his hand he raved and moaned. Pointing an accusing finger at him, he began to demand payment for his ruined motorcycle and threw the broken bottle backwards where it shattered against the pavement.

Prying his head from the ground he tried to spit out the words to get the young man far, far away. The man just spun around on his feet and laughed madly, drunk with alcohol, with youth and with life. He never saw the giant claws as the Hollow peeled his soul from his body and swallowed it whole.

'No...'

It smacked its lips in a pleased way, bulging eyes glowing as they set upon him once more. Panting, he groped for whatever scrap metal that could be had and threw it at the Hollow. The Hollow smiled (or let its mouth hang loose) indulgently and gingerly began to pick its way towards him, all too aware that he was now completely at its mercy.

'**Move!'**

Clucking almost soothingly, its claws reached for him when he rolled beneath it and rammed a twisted tailpipe into its decaying paws. The Hollow squawked and tried to retract its limb but he held fast and thrust the pipe further into the thick flesh. Sticky substance poured out from the wound and the Hollow's screech climbed higher. He wasn't quite ready to let go as he clenched the pipe like a lifeline and began to decant whatever energy he had into the dark hollow of the iron pipe.

The Hollow tore itself away from with an aggravated scream. Its furry appendage had broken out in fragments of rose-colored ice. He dropped down to his knees satisfied though he didn't remember where the power had come from or why he felt so smug. He crumpled towards the ground, his head chaffing against the metal shrapnel as he did so. Rain began to fall drowning out the sound of the Hollow's footsteps. He closed his eyes knowing that if he reached out, he could possibly touch the Hollow's legs.

'Get up, get up, get up...!'

The Hollow looked pitiful with its fur plastered down on its skeletal frame. The iced claw it had torn off with its teeth but the translucent crystals were climbing higher and higher up its shoulder and poked through his neck, making the already bulbous eyes grow larger.

'Just a few more seconds...'

Then he felt angry with himself, why was he taking this so calmly? Why wasn't he doing what he did best-–rip Hollows into pieces. Where was the boy who should have been standing by his side? Why was he not there with him?

His heartbeat thundered in his ears as the blood rushed to his head. He felt the darkness grow lighter then twist into a familiar redness.

Where was he?

What was he?

Light pulsed beneath his fingers in cadence with his heartbeat and a small orb formed overflowing with cyrokinetic power. He stared down at his hand in disbelief as the Hollow's remaining arm rose sideways to strike down at him. He snapped his head up and glared at that Hollow in the eyes. The Hollow shuddered as the foreign gaze pierced its skull and realized that it was no longer the hunter, it was the hunted.

'Where is he?'

Mist began to roll off of his shoulder in waves.

"_...Was it you Hollow, that took him?"_

The Hollow screeched. Before he could complete his attack, someone jumped down from the air cutting the skull-like mask in two. Purified, the soul regained its original form and quickly fled to Soul Society.

The familiar blonde hair stuck out from the darkness.

He decided he had never been so happy to see the substitute shinigami.

'**Watch it!'**

"Eh?"

Ichigo looked at his classmate or rather at his hand where a small globe of energy was throwing off light-blue sparks.

"Uh oh..."

With the sudden loss of focus, the ice ball exploded in his face.

-x-

When he woke up, he was lying in a small, sterile room with three heads looking over him intently. The two head with golden halos around their form bobbed sideways and spoke both reassuring and insulting words at him. The darker head hit one of the lighter heads and held something out in front of his face.

His vision cleared.

Kuchiki, Kurosaki and Inoue.

A bird's head popped up...

...and belched out a cloud of smoke into his eyes.

He sneezed and blew a hole through the thick fog surrounding his face. Somehow, he felt a modicum of his imaginary ego eroding at this decisively human act.

Knocking the memory replacement device from her hands he demanded,

"What the hell's wrong with you Kuchiki?!"

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**A.N.:** yay for reviews! thanks a lot guys xD 


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 3/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none in this chapter

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human one morning, not everyone can like the results.

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He was a quiet kid, dark hair and freckles that looked more like smatterings of light birthmarks across his face. A bit of a loser but didn't bother anyone unnecessarily or at least he didn't think he did. It was surprising to hear that the boy in question was the one who had caused so much trouble that afternoon. The normally timid junior had broken his upperclassmen's jaws and fractured more limbs than the paramedics would dare to diagnose. 

Not that Ichigo disagreed with the method.

Sometimes the seniors at his school needed more initiative to clear off the small fries.

But staring down at the injured classmate on one of the clinic's bed, Ichigo couldn't help but scowl guiltily at the thought that the boy wouldn't have been injured if only he had gotten up at Rukia's first call.

The said dark-haired girl had dropped down to her knees, reaching for the memory replacement device now lodged beneath the bed when the other boy had first struck out at her.

Orihime stood still on her feet not quite sure what she was to do.

The dark-haired teen seethed, glaring at the trio and turned his head to look out the window where a sudden rain shower had begun over Karakura.

With a noise of triumph, Rukia reproduced the memory replacement device in her hands and held it out towards Hyourinmaru. Another cloud burst forth but the boy in question waved it away easily, his hand glowing briefly white as he did so. He stared pointedly at the stunned Kuchiki as if daring her to do so again, then disinterestedly began to look at Orihime who tried hard not to make eye contact.

Quirking his eyebrow Ichigo asked,

"What, the memory-what's it doesn't work?"

"_It's_..." Rukia stressed out half-heartedly as she smacked the strange gadget, "...a memory replacement device."

Ichigo eyed her dubiously,

"Right, but it doesn't work."

"Of course it does, I got it from Benihime Shouten!"

At the name of the shop he looked up from Orihime startled. The name rang a bell in his mind though he couldn't remember why it seemed so familiar.

'A candy shop, I used to go...'

'**When?'**

Images of gold delineating a tree, folds of red silk, the length of inky black hair, sweet cloud of perfume and mouthful of cherries, blossoms and sake. A poignant tune on a harp like instrument, a shamisen, and his feet on the grass or just the feel of it as the wind curled around him in a lover's embrace.

'I don't remember...'

"I feel so reassured..."

"I do not get it, why does it not work."

"Obviously, it's a dud."

"Who are you calling a dud!!"

A plushy was thrown against the floor and the freckled teen was shaken out of his reverie. He was relieved to find that no one had noticed his lapse in attention until he saw the auburn-haired girl's probing gaze. There was something profoundly unsettling about the soulful eyes and even deeper understanding he found in them. A trail of smoke descended upon his head once more and he coughed and shook his head in a negative at the silent question the other two offered.

The two avidly began to argue again.

'This is not amusing.'

'**Perhaps you can talk to them?'**

He took the bird-like device from the girl's fingers and crushed it in his hands.

"Look if you want to keep fighting like an old married couple, by all means be my guest. But I'd like to keep my lungs nice and clean for the next centuries or so if you don't mind."

Apparently they did my as they sputtered out belated objections to the untimely death of the ruined object in his hands. The freckled teen laid back against the pillow, wishing that it would suddenly bloat up and smother him into oblivion. He let the broken bits of metal and plastic fall from his hands to the utter dismay of the young Kuchiki.

'Why did I say that?'

'**Centuries? You wouldn't last the next year from what I've seen.'**

'I didn't ask you now did I?' Hyourinmaru frowned trying to remember when exactly he had picked up the habit of having a conversation with himself. 'I don't remember signing up for a midget voice to be dancing in my head.' True he was shorter than average teenage boy, just a head below Kurosaki. His mother had always said that...

'Wait...'

His eyes widened in horror.

'Who…?'

"Great, we'll have to take him to the shop."

"Well maybe he's another shinigami, he can see me right?"

He breathed in deeply trying to be calm. Probably an after effect of the crash, he consoled himself and twisted the thin sheet around his fingers. Maybe a concussion though they always said that a shinigami's head was too thick to be damaged in conventional ways.

"You have returned to your original body."

"Oh yeah..."

"Besides, that only proves that he is spiritually aware... if what you say is true he would have been using 'ice magic' perhaps he belongs to one of the families in Seireitei."

'Seireitei...'

'**How do you know about it?'**

"Wait a minute Rukia, you can't mean that ol' Toushiro here is from the Soul... woah!"

'...Toushiro...'

His hand sprung forward and closed in on the strawberry-blonde's shirt collar. The two girls tried to stop him by clawing at his arm and prying his fingers from the taller teen's throat but he simply snarled in warning and butted their heads closer together. Ichigo felt the cool breath wash over his reddening cheeks.

Wasn't it supposed to be warm?

Ichigo shivered briefly, feeling the chill course through his body at the close proximity.

Just when had his eyes turned red?

"Do I look like Toushiro to you?"

Ichigo wasn't sure if that was a rhetorical question and he wrenched himself out of the shorter boy's grip. Putting both hands around his neck in a protective way Ichigo grimaced and backed off a few feet. The boy did not move from his place on the bed but he did not lie down again. Orihime went to the strawberry-blonde to look at the fast darkening bruises against the throat. Rukia looked prepared, ready to attack even if her reiatsu hadn't been fully restored to her yet.

Hyourinmaru's expression darkened, he wanted -needed- answers.

'**Hyourinmaru Toushiro, Junior at Karakura Highschool. Resident of Karakura town with a single parent out of the country working in China. Currently resides in the dormitories near Karakura hospital. Gets good grades, a bully-magnet and a bookworm. Usually stays out of trouble but I wonder how true that will be when you awaken your spiritual powers to their full capacity.'**

His vision began to blur. He trembled, sweat snaking down his spine.

"No, no, no I can't..."

Ichigo lowered his hands and watched him warily, unsure as to how to proceed.

"I can't be him... I just can't..."

"Ichigo," Rukia whispered urgently edging sideways. Her soul cutter was of the ice family, she could recognize the powerful element at work instantly. "We need to knock him out, or at least get out of here." Orihime stood still, fascinated at the dazzling display of frost as it webbed over the lighting above. Their quick breathing turned into watery vapors and froze against their lips and nostrils. Strangely, the boy in bed seemed unaffected as he gently wrapped his arms around his stomach as if in pain.

"I can't..."

Ichigo quickly ran forward and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. He began to shake him, to snap out of the strange void he found in his red eyes.

"What do you mean you can't? You've been Toushiro all your life! What are you talking about?!"

'Because...'

The barest brush of cloth whiter than snow

**'Toushiro...?'**

Rukia threw herself against Orihime and saved her from being speared by ice. The room itself was sealed in clear crystal and it was cold, so very cold.

Only two people remained ice-free in the room but they were shivering harder than the two others. Ichigo let go of the teen's shoulders feeling as if the weight of the room had tumbled down onto his back. Hyourinmaru looked at him—no past him, over his shoulders—serenely, all past emotions gone, the ice suddenly melting away into the air.

"I cannot."

-x-

Four in the morning and not a soul was stirring in the streets of Karakura.

Well except perhaps one.

Rukia pounded furiously on the door, teeth chattering with the other hand holding a cat-eared umbrella. Orihime had taken off after politely informing them that she had something to do in the morning. Rukia privately wondered if it wasn't something else, the other girl had been unnaturally subdued. Few more furious hits and the door opened to reveal a sleepy looking redhead staring imperiously up at them with a sour look on his face. A black haired girl with locks of stray hair swinging in front of her face also peeked out but gasped and quickly retreated when she saw Hyourinmaru's quiet form leaning heavily on Ichigo.

"The shop's closed," Jinta muttered knowing that it would be futile if they were up at this ungodly hour just to kick at their door.

"This is an emergency,"

"What seems to be the matter here?" sang a feminine voice. Looking as if she hadn't been sleeping at all, a woman clothed in layers of traditional kimono came forward opening the door wider to shine light upon the three rain-soaked teenagers in front of the shop. Tutting at their disheveled appearance, her scarlet eyes rested on the boy leaning on her unwilling student-slash-customer. "Oh a new customer!" she clapped her hands together and ushered them in despite the protests that Jinta made. "Do come in, bring some tea won't you Tessai?" revealing their seats with the flourish of her crimson sleeves, the oriental woman knelt down on a sitting mat and folded her milky-white hands over her knees. "Now, what brings you to my humble abode at..." she threw a look back at the clock behind her, "Four seventeen in the morning? Ah thank you,"

A dark-skinned man brought them tea. Hyourinmaru didn't touch it as he stared hypnotized into the swirling steam. Rukia cleared her throat,

"Your memory removal device didn't work,"

Broken bits of plastic were prodded forward glaring accusingly at the woman before it. She didn't even bat an eye before taking a sip from her cup. She courteously fingered the twisted fragments before looking at Rukia.

"Oh?"

"And he is spiritually aware. He was able to use ice magic against a Hollow from what Ichigo has told me."

"Well then what seems to be the problem?"

"He's acting really weird," Ichigo blurted out.

"Weird," the woman raised an elegant eyebrow, scrutinizing the dark-haired teenager in front of her.

"Toushiro... that is his name, claims..." Rukia continued, jabbing Ichigo in the ribs. "That he is not himself..."

Hyourinmaru's head jerked up, his mahogany eyes briefly brushing against the woman's red ones. He growled in Rukia's direction though there was no real force behind it. He dropped his head dispirited. The woman hummed slightly and set aside her cup. She stood up and gave him a bow, coral tinted fingers flying to brush her black locks behind her ears as they gazed into each other's eyes. She gave him a polite, thoughtful smile. She stared blandly at the other two, her face slightly shadowed.

"And what would you like me to do about it."

Both Rukia and Ichigo tried to look elsewhere. They had not thought about that. They had thought to bring him to Benihime Shouten to keep him safe for such explosion of spiritual power would surely attract Hollows as would a lure on a string. Attempting to erase his memories seemed like such a futile task now, a temporary solution before the real problem presented itself. True, others like Orihime and Chad had shown remarkable powers after being exposed to Ichigo but they weren't sure if the _normally_ shy 'Toushiro' could be allowed on such exclusions.

Meanwhile Benihime had turned back towards him once more.

"Benihime Akane at your service. You are at my shop which specializes in shinigami-ware and candy. Service hours are from ten am to six pm but I'll make an exception for you since you're so cute. What can I help you with?"

Heaviness descended upon the air of the room. Toushiro rose to his feet which made him at an eye-to-eye level with the oriental woman. He looked at her blankly and she narrowed her eyes at him as impatience washed over her--why couldn't he just choose?

Irritation and affection, how strange.

"I thought..." the teen spoke softly as if he was disappointed at what he found in her. Or what he had not been able to find. "I thought of all the people, you'd be able to remember... princess..."

Momentary shock coursed through the woman's body. His gaze was cold but warm at the same time. Unfamiliar, she had seen thousands of others like him entering and exiting his shop. Familiar like an old nursery rhyme that refused to go away, dear like an old flame lost to the wheels of time. She took hold of herself firmly, her hand toying with a kodachi hidden up her sleeve.

"Hyourinmaru..."

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**A.N.:** As always, thank you for the kind reviews. 

And happy Lunar/Chinese New Years for those that celebrate it (stuck in grandparent's house)


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 4/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none in this chapter

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human one morning, not everyone can like the results.

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"Hyourinmaru..." she repeated. Where had she gotten that name? But she knew it was right judging by the slight lightening of his eyes. Her hand dropped to her sides, thwarted for now but not defeated. She sighed and turned her face slightly, apologetic. "I cannot remember anything else." 

"It's alright."

'I missed you...'

-x-

It was a beautiful Sunday morning.

The rain had cleared up the previous day yet it was early in the morning that the touch of the sun's rays was cool and comfortable. The bird's chirped cheerfully for the first time in weeks since the heat wave first started. Here and there, one could see a glimpse of the too blue sky and fluorescent clouds through the drying puddles by the shallow ditches against the sidewalk.

Kurosaki Ichigo rubbed his eyes blearily, wondering why of all people, he had to be the one to drop in for a visit.

He knocked and entered, slightly unsure as a stout woman bustled about preparing what seemed to be multiple servings of fried rice. Waving her rice-pocked ladle in the general direction of the boy's rooms, she warned that she had not seen the hide or hair of the auburn eyed junior since Friday evening. Huffing about ungrateful children, she yelled out the said teen's name and warned of Ichigo's coming before turning back to her slowly browning rice.

Ichigo knocked on the door he was directed at, nervously jiggling his peace offering of chips and pocky in his hands. Rukia had originally wanted to come, wanting to know if the teen had come from Soul Society. The strawberry-blonde had been quick to intercept her; Hyourinmaru lived in a dormitory–boy's only dormitory to be exact. So he had been sent in her stead backed by a cheerful grin and a plastic bag full of cheap junk food.

Well, pocky didn't count—in fact, it was probably the sixth essential food group.

A tousled head popped out looking somewhat cranky but relieved to find the strawberry-blonde standing there. Without a word, he opened the door further and kicked the various items at his feet backwards into the room. When Ichigo had safely entered the room—making sure to be on his toes lest he step on something disgusting or breakable—he shut the door with a small sigh and waved the taller junior over to his bed where there was less clutter.

The room was small but organized... in a chaotic way.

The rings of moisture never strayed from the messy desk near the door. The dirty laundry was stuffed beneath the said desk while the (hopefully) clean ones were piled on top of the bed. Thick novels and notebooks made their home in the shelf by the desk while text books tiled the floor. Above the headboard was a line of sticky notes all yelling out quotes like _'sleep: three hours equal success, four hours equal failure!' _and _'no pain no gain'._

If Rukia or anyone else had wanted to see signs of the boy's supernatural origins they were going to be disappointed. Ichigo saw nothing to suggest that the teen was anything other than a studious nerd who got pushed around a lot at school. In fact, as he looked around, he saw that there was not even a misshapen mug to personalize the room as the teen's own.

"Sorry it's a mess." the dark-haired teen apologized, throwing a dirty sock into the deep abyss beneath his desk. "I've been meditating."

"It's ok," Ichigo assured automatically, making sure his hand did not stray over to the pile of supposedly clean clothes. "Meditating?"

The boy's eyes darted around uncomfortably, almost as if he weren't even familiar with the layout of his own room. Ichigo set the plastic bag down by the rumpled pillow and sat down as the dark haired teen began to pick up the text books and stacked them under the window.

"Yes." Replied Hyourinmaru, nodding absentmindedly. He began to gnaw on his lips as he turned towards the strawberry-blonde. "Listen, how about if I buy you something to eat and... I'll try and answer whatever questions you might have."

Though more than happy to get out of the room, Ichigo wasn't comfortable with the idea of an almost—total—stranger buying him his yet-to-be-eaten breakfast. He scratched the back of his head and voiced his discomfort even as the teen stripped his shirt off and added it on top of the laundry pile. Face burning slightly, all thoughts of protest died on his tongue as the other junior changed into a cleaner t-shirt in the washed pile.

Not that Ichigo had never seen guys changing in front of him, he had just never seen the other teen change into... well anything. Hyourinmaru Toushiro usually went to the bathrooms to change, other guys—and girls—had on going bets on if the reticent teen had some physical disfigurement. It made him feel as if staring at the other's bare torso was some kind of a taboo. He saw that the splatter of freckles didn't quite make it past his shoulders but were darker on the back of his neck. It was as if someone had sprayed the junior with coffee and hung him out to dry. "Come on. It's ok, not like I have anywhere better to spend it."

"Alright," Ichigo sighed, agreeing. He got up and headed for the door when the Hyourinmaru tugged him backwards, shaking his head. Silently, the quiet teen pointed towards the window. They were only on the first floor of the building; the ground was not too far below the window. "But I left my shoes in front of the door..."

Frowning (though not directly at him) the dark-haired junior jerked his head towards the door. The scent of burnt rice and vegetables seeped in through the tightly locked door. Ichigo was instantly reminded of the pile of greasy brown rice frying in the pan. They both shuddered inwardly. There was no way that they would even go near the soon-to-be-disaster served up on plate.

Shaking his head Hyourinmaru threw a pair of shoes at the blonde. Ichigo caught them looking bewildered. The other teen merely shook his head and pushed him over to the window.

"Wait for me in the back; I'll get your shoes."

The teen jumped ahead of Ichigo and goes around towards the front. Ichigo fumbled with the shoelaces and put the shoes on. He jogged around in place nervous as a sound of incoherent yelling filled the air. He began to pivot on his feet nervously as Toushiro slowly made his way out the front door. The other teen's lips were pressed in a fine line as he exchanged shoes with Ichigo. Ichigo thought it prudent not to ask.

They made their way to a small ice cream parlor in front of the park. There were yellow tapes all around with police directing the flow of traffic into a detour route. Ichigo winced as soon as they caught sight of the warning glare of the orange-and-white cones on the road. Toushiro grasped the taller teen's wrists to prevent him from turning around. When questioned with a disapproving look, the other junior said mildly,

"It might have happened today or tomorrow. He would have died whether you had come or not." And left it at that. Ichigo paused looking at the ground a bit before nodding.

Out of politeness, Ichigo chose a single cone cherry ice cream while Hyourinmaru had a double-cone pineapple ice cream. When asked if he came here often the shorter boy shook his head no and thoughtfully gave the cold treat an experimental lick. A small grin possessed the shorter teen's face.

"So... what happened yesterday?"

"I'm not sure."

"Are you really from Soul Society?" he asked again dubiously. Toushiro took his time, obviously enjoying his double-scoop pineapple ice cream. He stared at the yellow streaked cream lumps miserably when they began to melt in the sun. Ichigo bit into the cherry ice cream and sat down on the bench, he immediately jumped back up when he found that it was still wet however.

"Not really."

"... so is that a no?"

Toushiro shrugged, attempting to swallow the topmost scoop of ice cream in one mouthful. He failed, leaving a deep impression of teeth marks and melted cream. Ichigo looked at the boy oddly, Toushiro did not stare back. He was concentrating on his ice cream as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He nibbled at the edge of the cone and began to wrap his tongue around the base of the pineapple cream-and-syrup mountain. For a moment the strawberry blonde was reminded of a snake, or a creature with an equally ambidextrous tongue. The bubble gum pink tongue retracted.

"Your ice cream's melting."

Giving out an irritable grunt at his own stupidity, Ichigo began to suck on his wrist where a trail of pastel pink had run down from the cone onto his fingers. Switching his hands, Ichigo continued to suck on his cherry-coated fingers as the sun did the same to his other hand. In the end, the strawberry blonde contended to drinking out of his soggy cone and stuffed it in his mouth. He was scowling displeased but somewhat content, it wasn't his money after all.

"Why isn't your ice cream melting?"

The sunlight had intensified. The length of its white rays stretched far across the sky to set it alight in blue flames. Ichigo held a hand over his eyes and peered up at the sky. Not a single cloud in the sky to indicate that there had been a rain shower the night before. Even his back, which had gotten wet from sitting on the bench, was dry.

"I don't want it to melt."

"Well duh, I didn't exactly want mine to melt either." Ichigo gave his sticky hand another lick. Then he realized that they might have been talking about something else entirely.

They entered a playground, covered in yellow tape with small children staring in awe at the destruction that had taken the night before. A police man waved a hand at them trying to explain that he was there to investigate. Most of the onlookers ran off, looking for a second playground to continue their games in, but the rest remained behind, curious to see what had happened.

"I wonder when they installed that," Toushiro commented as he finally bit into his waffle cone. "Nearly got killed trying to get around it." There was a brightly colored foothold lying in the dirt trail before them. Swallowing the last remnants of his ice cream with much remorse, he kicked it and sent it sinking four inches into an innocent tree. He exhaled shakily and stuffed his hands down his pockets. "I don't know what's happening anymore."

Ichigo looked at the other boy in concern. He walked up to the tree to see that yes, the foothold had been driven into the trunk and no, he hadn't just imagined Toushiro doing it. What was happening? Toushiro was one of those kids that were never picked for sports, always shunted in-between teams as a favor to one another. And yet here he had displaced kick force that was almost _Kanrin_-worthy. He quickly followed the disappearing back of the dark-haired teen until they were in step with each other.

"So what can you tell me?"

Toushiro gave him a look and replied,

"Depends, what do you want to know?"

"Well it's more like what Rukia wants to know. I'm sure Benihime-san wants to know too but she'll probably do some digging on her own." The auburn-eyed teen laughed humorlessly and sped up, forcing Ichigo to lengthen his stride.

"I can't tell you anything then, can I?"

"Hey, you said that you would answer any questions I might have."

"So ask me." Toushiro stopped and Ichigo collided with him. The teen pivoted on one foot until they were face to face. "I can answer you but I'm afraid I can't answer what you, she desires to know." Ichigo raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling cold though the sun was high up in the sky.

"...What?"

"She _will_ come for you..."

"Who? Rukia?"

Under the dappled sunlight, the smaller teen seemed magical, fey-like. His face was of profound understanding, mouth set into a bitter smile. His eyes glowed red, briefly, unnatural, cold. And suddenly Ichigo was struck by how right he had been. He could not be Toushiro simply because the Toushiro he knew—the one that he thought he had known—was no longer in existence.

-x-

"So who are you then? Do you have a name or what?"

"Hyourinmaru."

"No first names?"

"That is my first name."

"Ookay... no last names then?"

"Why would I need a last name?"

Ichigo tried to think and failed to come up with a possible reply. The teen had caught him there; the name 'Hyourinmaru' was just not that common.

"So if you're not Toushiro... what are you doing here?"

"I don't know... the last thing I remember..."

'_He's mine!'_

Hyourinmaru shuddered inwardly, his breath coming out in short gasps. Ichigo immediately grabbed his shoulders to steady him and the shorter teen dropped his head against the blonde's chest, his skin cool to touch.

"We were fighting..." He said softly. Ichigo held his breath and dared not interrupt. "We were fighting; all of us... were together fighting him. Something must have happened... I can't find Toushiro..."

"Toushiro?"

"My shinigami..."

"Wait... your shinigami?"

"My shinigami." Hyourinmaru repeated,

"Ookay..." Ever hopeful Ichigo tried again, "Were you... sent here by anyone?"

He snorted,

"Who would send me here?"

"The Soul Society?"

"No," Hyourinmaru held out his hands. "Not in this form, they wouldn't dare."

"In what form?"

"What?"

"In what form? You said something about how the Soul Society wouldn't dare to send you in this form... you kinda of a monster dragon or something?"

"I don't know, I don't remember. I just know that something is wrong, I'm not... supposed to be like this."

'**Be like what?'**

'You again...'

"Helpless," he muttered, "I'm helpless."

Ichigo sighed and crossed his arm behind his back. The line of trees gave away to a stone cobbled path and patches of verdant grass. Toushiro looked disinterestedly at his surroundings and addressed Ichigo once more.

"What was your question again?"

"Never mind, I don't think I want to know."

Toushiro grunted in agreement as Ichigo picked at his ear. In silence, they walked around the park and parted where they had began in front of the ice cream parlor where the policemen still were, making inquiries.

"So... see you at school?"

Toushiro blinked, dully.

"Where else would we be?"

Frustrated, the strawberry-blonde went home.

-x-

Toushiro wandered for a long time. He came and went from the small duck pond south of the park. He revisited where his run from the Hollow had taken place, across the forest and towards a demolished playground, out of the scraggly bushes and green-leaved trees and onto the road scattered with debris. He took this all in calmly, even as he played the events from the night before, rewind and close up, then play again. It was like an echo of a memory, a reminder, something that gnawed persistently at the corner of his mind as he tried not to think too hard. Instead he let the fragmented images come to him and tell their story, of the soft-edged ice and fast flowing waters. A boy with hair fairer than the snow, lost in layers of silk sizes too large for him.

'I can't feel him...'

He reached out and met a wall. He wasn't sure he should be crying of relief or frustration. A wall would have been placed to block their communication; a wall obscured their view of each other and separated them. A wall brought him hope and became despair. A wall he couldn't destroy, a wall nothing, no one could overcome.

'**Nothing? Are we nothing?'**

A bubble of warmth wrapped around his mind. The hand on the wall was taken from the rough surface and placed against silken flesh, their fingers laced together warm, welcomed. And though he had never been dwarfed in his own body, never had he felt so humble beside a presence so familiar or so dear. Bright lights, he could not make anything out. What he saw he soon forgot and what he heard was drowned out by silence.

Eyes quietly flashed from beneath the armored helmet.

'**Am I nothing?'**

Hyourinmaru woke up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 5/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none in this chapter

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human with a thousand memories he doesn't understand. Not everyone is who they're supposed to be but he's not sure if he wants to make things right.

**A.N.** Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

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Benihime Akane hummed cheerfully as she dusted her storage of artifacts she had gathered over the past century. Taking care to wipe the bottom of the various jewelry boxes piled in the back, she ordered Jinta and Ururu to air an oriental carpet. Strangely the two were quiet today, Jinta had yet to heap his usual string of abuse on the dark-haired girl and she had yet to see the giant eyes filling with tears. And it was almost opening time; it must have been a new record. 

The woman pursed her lips, frowning. Yoruichi hadn't come to visit lately and Tessai was apparently too busy correcting one of his secret cookie recipes to talk to her. She paused, the pink and gold feather duster hanging limply in her fingers. She strained her ears trying to listen in on what was going on outside but she heard nothing. There was no soft hiss of the teapot as morning tea was prepared, no bossy shouts as Ururu dropped her end of the rug. Shoving the feather duster up her sleeve, she stepped outside to see if everything was alright.

Jinta and Ururu were outside, quietly heating the rug as the geometric patterns sewn in the fabric crawled away from their beaters. There was tea set out in the table before her, hot and just the way she liked it complete with a plate of dried fruit on the side. Suddenly the room felt large and she felt exposed, every object that should have been at her reach felt very far away. She reached out against a wall to steady herself. The room looked empty but that was ridiculous. She pulled the feather duster back out, it turned into a katana with a bound hilt.

This was wrong, everything was wrong.

Everything had been wrong since Hyourinmaru had come to her.

Benihime narrowed her eyes.

"Tessai-san? Could you please look after the shop today? I need to pick something up." The dark-skinned man answered in what sounded like an agreement. Nodding she set one foot in front of the other and disappeared.

-x-

He wasn't exactly late so he didn't know why he was running, weaving through the few people lost in the waking world and cutting through alleyways. Surely he wasn't that desperate to start school on a Monday? But he had a sense of feeling that this was the closest he could get physically to making things right. He couldn't fly and he was a terrible swimmer, but he still had working legs and feet. So he ran, tasting the relative coolness of the morning air as he cut a corner and jumped over trays of milk being delivered to a convenience store.

'Faster...'

School,

He was running faster than he had ever run before. Before, a time when he had never needed to run, before, the time he had no need, no strength to run. But here he was, running, running like a galloping horse through the finish line.

"Hey look who's here..."

He immediately jumped forward onto his hand and kicked back. His opponent jerked his head back just as the tip of his toes glazed his double chin. He landed in a crouch, the pads of his fingers sliding over the ground as he skidded to a stop. The group broke out in laughter as they pointed fingers at him.

"Hah, he thinks that he's some Kong-fu master just because he beat up a few losers!"

He stood up, almost primly dusting himself.

"Are you quite done?" he asked softly, "or would you like to visit those _'losers'_ in the hospital?" That got the leader's attention. The senior flushed, the redness of his skin drowning out the numerous pimples on his face. Curling his block like fists, he launched it directly into Hyourinmaru's face. Hyourinmaru closed his eyes, knowing that if the senior was stupid enough to touch his face; the consequences would be more than what he could do if he were to fight back.

The blow never came.

"I thought fighting wasn't allowed at school." A voice asked innocently as he slowly opened his eyes--Benihime Akane, wearing a deep ochre kimono depicting an orange sun. She held a katana in her hand, the blade buried between the fallen senior's thighs. The other boy whimpered, tears squeezing out of his eyes. His lackeys had all fled into the building. If they were smart, they would report to a teacher but as it was, no one was likely to believe that a delicate woman had their esteemed leader crying like a kicked puppy.

"Benihime-san." He bowed, not even bothering to give the older boy a second glance. The woman's perfect eyebrow rose as she plucked her katana out of the earth. The senior immediately ran away, the seats of his pants looking suspiciously wet. Grimacing in mild disgust, she produced a small rag and a bottle of cleaning agent as she proceeded to wipe her katana clean.

"I'm not sure Kurosaki-kun was right in bringing you to me." She lamented as the bell rang and he started though he stood in place as all others ran to reach their classrooms before the alarm ceased. She continued, "He should have just taken you to Karakura Hospital." Her expression clearing as she stowed away all her items into her spacious sleeves, she said brightly, "you seem lost Hyourinmaru-chan, why is that?"

He frowned at the suffix _'-chan'_ at the end of his name.

"Don't call me that... and I'm not crazy."

Benihime cupped his chin, her face uncomfortably close to his.

"You deny who you truly are, you're confused." And Benihime let go with a smile, her hair flowing like a dark river across her back as she turned around. She touched his cheek and let her fingers slide of as she went, her tea-and-sugar scent clouding his senses. "Visit me sometime won't you?"

"I always do."

Neither knew what they pledged to one another.

-x-

He was late and he kneeled on top of his minutes for thirty minutes as his math teacher bemoaned her career choice. To students around him, he was a hero. He had successfully stopped what was to be another boring lesson involving hypotenuse. His legs ached and he fought to remain upright as another minute ticks by.

At last, his teacher has given up on him and has turned her attention back towards the black board. She raised the yellow chalk and struck it down the dark-green board when the bell rang shrilly and everyone ran out of the room. She sighed, huffing as she gathered up her math books and ruler. She shot him an evil look before exiting, her ponytail swishing angrily behind her.

Hyourinmaru carefully unfolded his legs that had been sobbing for relief. Now as the blood flow increased to the necessary parts, he stumbled off his table and crawled back into his chair.

"Are you alright Hyourinmaru-san?" Inoue Orihime stood in front of his desk, her hands clasped behind her back as she looked down at him in concern. Her light brown eyes were captivating; he could easily understand the lengths Kurosaki had gone to in order to save her. He carefully brought a hand to his temple as his veins seized making him feel as though someone was pulling on his hair from the back.

'_Come on, we have to get out of here.'_

'**Hyourinmaru...'**

"I'm fine."

Her face brightened and he tried to place her eyes, other than on her face. He was sure he had seen them before; did Orihime have a secret cousin around the school? Or had those eyes always been hers and he had not noticed? Great, now he was confusing himself.

Rukia jumped over the desks and landed on top of his while Ichigo, being the nice, normal kid that he was, breast-stroked his way through the crowd of students milling around the doors to get to the student store downstairs. A few looked back to see why the trio were hanging around the designated 'loser' of the class but they quickly lost interest as they exited the classroom.

Hyourinmaru barely batted an eye as Rukia's foot appeared in his vision, the shiny buckle seeming to wink at him as she jumped down onto the floor.

"Rukia I told you," came Ichigo's exasperated voice. "He's not from the Soul Society."

The dark-haired girl pointed an accusing finger into his face.

"But it's obvious that he knows about it,"

"What are you afraid of anyways?" Ichigo grumbled out loud. "Maybe Tou... H..." the strawberry blonde frowned and the white-haired teen raised his head. "Hyourinmaru's like Inoue."

"She's not a shinigami though." Rukia's voice went flat.

"Rukia?"

-x-

After school he visited Behime Shouten as he had promised. The woman was cheerfully speaking into the phone to whichever poor fool on the other end. But she stopped her teasing when the bell tinkled and he entered the shop, his hands thrust deep into his uniform pockets. With an enigmatic farewell, she set down the receiver and glided out from behind the counter.

"Ahh you're here, what can I do for you."

"They're going to take her."

"Hmm?"

"The Soul Society," he elaborated, making himself at home as he pulled up a plastic chair and sat down upon it. Benihime offered him a candy and he popped it into his mouth feeling the edges of his world distorting again. The candy tasted like a flat coke and he was reminded of a boy who hated sweets because he hated being treated like a child. Benihime took out another chair and took a seat. She managed to cross her legs somehow, underneath the layer of silk as she fanned herself though the air conditioning in the corner was on full blast, making it cool enough even for him to be comfortable. "They'll come for her..." he winced, accidentally biting down on the cola-flavored candy with an audible crack. He rolled his tongue and spread the fragments evenly across the inside of his mouth. "... She'll come for her."

"Yes, Kuchiki-chan is still an officer is she not?" Benihime mused, ignoring his last comment. "She'll be punished for staying here for so long, mingling with commoners, humans, and exiles. Oh yes, and Kurosaki-kun."

"Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Aren't you?" the woman challenged, folding her fan and tapping him on the head. "I rather like my lifestyle thank you very much and it isn't as though I've insisted to have her here..." she put a hand to the side of her face sniffing loudly. "Ah love... makes us do the most foolish of things."

'**Love?'**

"_It's too late; the entrances have been blocked off!"_

The sugar melted in his mouth.

"They're here."

-x-

Rukia ran. Daylight faded and all became dark. The fluorescent streetlights came alive setting her path alight. Her feet bounced off the pale concrete almost as if she were about to take to the air any minute. Her backpack softly bumped against her spine each time she made contact with the ground and left. Still she knew it wouldn't be fast enough. And she wasn't.

"Hanging around with humans making you soft Rukia?"

Renji, she could recognize that cocky voice anywhere. The ground beside her split into pieces, splintered by Zabimaru's fangs. The dark-haired girl shuddered as she gingerly placed her right foot behind her left. Renji came down from his perch on top of the streetlight, his familiar tattooed face visible. Casually, he slung the katana across his shoulders and held a hand out inquiring.

"You know what happens to those who remain in the human world too long right...?"

Rukia took a step back, her vision distorting as it showed double images; the picture of the Renji she knew overlaying that of a vicious hollow which was opening its jaws to swallow her whole. But his voice compelled her, held her still and hypnotized as he took a step forward and raised his zanpakuto over her head. She knew, this time, no one would be able to reach her in time to save her.

-

-

Kon was being unusually defiant that night. Upon discovery of Rukia's letter, the lion plushy proceeded to throw a tantrum before squeezing into the bottom of his bed. The strawberry-blonde had barely been able to step on the bristly tail and capture the rebelling mod-soul.

"Come on." Ichigo gritted out, strangling the plushy with one hand while trying to extract the soul candy with another. Kon bit him but in vain. After all, there was only so much a stitch lined mouth could do to living flesh.

"Seems like you're in a hurry," a mellifluous voice spoke up. Ichigo looked up. In his window sill framed by the soft sakura petals, was Benihime Akane alongside the nervous looking Hyourinmaru Toushiro. The woman closed her hand and opened it, capturing a lone petal out of the air. She smiled at the spectacle as the boy beside her gave his classmate a bland stare. "Anything we can do to help?"

-x-

With a loud clang Renji jumped backwards. Kurosaki Ichigo stood in front of the adopted Kuchiki, his cleaver-like zanpakuto out and flaring with large amounts of reiatsu. The redhead swore loudly as he saw that Zabimaru had cracked where they had met blade to blade and he quickly pressed two fingers over the hairline fracture.

Rukia stood awestruck behind the strawberry-blonde as the teenager in question looked over his zanpakuto feeling as if the blade had somehow _changed_. Wasting no more thoughts on the matter, Ichigo made a feint with the sleeve-like cloth on his hilt and struck his zanpakuto into Renji's face.

"Roar Zabimaru!" the lieutenant ran the tip his fingers down the length of his zanpakuto as his prized sunglasses were cut in two. The whip like blade shot out but having expected this, Ichigo counted three strikes until the sword retracted and stabbed the air.

-x-

He and Behihime hid behind soft-leaved branches looking down at the fight below. Half-heartedly guessing at their moves,--and incidentally getting them all right--he wondered when the standards of a division lieutenant had fallen so low--amazingly as if he had heard the rebuke, Renji picked up his pace and unleashed Zabimaru upon the strawberry blonde--and shifted on his perch as a delicate hand flirted with his ebon hair.

"Calm down,"

He swallowed a sharp retort and settled for low rumbles. Suddenly his nostrils flared as he caught scent of the one who finally stepped into the light and declared the battle won. Ichigo was slit from throat to navel, half of his hide flayed off of his torso. Benihime looked as surprised as she could ever get, her eyes widening before narrowing as she scrutinized the phenomenon that had occurred before her eyes.

For him however, he had finished waiting. He had spent most of his life between the ground and some upperclassman's foot, but he had never truly in danger of dying like Ichigo was, and Toushiro too, even if he didn't know... remember the two very well. The prospect both frightened and excited him.

"Are you mad?"

Benihime whispered furiously, her lips taking on a pouting shape. For a moment he was tempted to relapse into his default status, submit before a stronger entity--namely everyone else on the planet--but he shook his head and grinned,

"You're the one who implied it not me."

Benihime crossed her arms,

"I will not risk breaking another nail today but I do know that it _will_ be dangerous for you to be noticed. You who do not even have a soul cutter to shield you from internal attacks..."

"Don't..." his eyes were fogged over with a rosy film—a good tug might have revealed the true color of his eyes. His finger pressed over her lips silencing her as he stared into her eyes and cutting away whatever lingering doubts she had left.

Below them, Rukia screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Air Castle 

**Chapters:** 6/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** mild Benihime/Hyourinmaru

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human with a thousand memories he doesn't understand. Not everyone is who they're supposed to be but he's not sure if he wants to make things right.

* * *

-

-

* * *

Rukia huddled above Ichigo's bloodied form, her fingers lightly dancing over his torn back as she fought the tears that came to her eyes. With light steps, Byakuya came to her side, imperious as he stood over the weeping girl. Without another look at the dying boy he said, 

"Even if your sentence grows heavier, you would choose to come to his side?"

"Honored brother," she said breathlessly, looking up at last. Behind the regal captain of the sixth division was Renji, struggling to stand up as he wiped the blood out of his eyes. Their eyes met and Rukia shivered, her hands curling into Ichigo's tattered sleeves. And as the captain and his lieutenant exchanged words with each other, Rukia longed to tell her adopted sibling that the real danger was within the wildly tattooed redhead though she no longer remembered the words to say it. She shivered miserably as the piercing grey gaze looked her over, as if judging if it was worth the effort to drag her back to the Soul Society.

Yet a second time...

She somehow didn't think she'd be as lucky this time around.

"I understand Rukia; they look very much alike..." he said slowly. Renji sheathed Zabimaru, a grim expression on his face akin to pity. Was it possible that he was the same man who had attempted to give her hope, however small, as she was shut behind the warded bars like a caged butterfly?

The Kuchiki noble raised Senbonzakura above his head, intending to bring it down upon the substitute shinigami's neck. Rukia grew wide-eyed, mouthing multiple 'no's as she held onto Ichigo's torn kimono top even when the katana sounded as it whistled through the air.

"Che, some savior you are."

Hyourinmaru held a crystalline sword at the man's throat, digging it in deeper against the marble-like skin when the other's hand threatened to drop. Byakuya took a step back, momentarily stunned as he realized he was immobilized by shackles of frost. Grimacing slightly, he shook his head and raised his reiatsu enough to blow his lieutenant flat on his back.

The dark-haired junior landed on the pavement unimpressed.

Scarf whipping sideways as he shot forward, Byakuya tested the boy several times with each hit carefully deflected off its mark by a coat of ice that appeared and disappeared at will. The man was slightly impressed with the boy's performance and withdrew, then came at it again from the side. The teen only managed to buffer the blow as he was thrown against the ground. Wiping his mouth, he stared doe-eyed at the nobleman's somber face.

'_Remember when they first saw you, at your youth and smallness, at the color of your hair, at the difference, out of fear. Do you remember when we first took to the sky wings stretched out far, the scent of the ocean breeze yet nonexistent, touch of clouds as they faded into the sky? I no longer remember but I feel it, I can almost taste it... _

…_Remember when we first met?'_

He could see the beginnings of a fracture starting from the pointed tip down the length of the silver blade. And yet the sword did not crack like frozen wings or the reflective surface of a reflective mirror. The silver slivers began to peel; they bloomed like late blossoms of a cherry tree.

"Scatter Senbonzakura."

'**Run!'**

'Senbonzakura...'

He had fought alongside them and sometimes against them before. Their war cry was one he could recognize better than his own. Benihime's always felt like riveting blood, thick and rich as it washed over and numbed his senses. Zabimaru's a series of booming barks. His had always been cold and all-consuming. Senbonzakura's was like the warmth of a spring afternoon, a moment of calm before the coming storm.

He felt her blades one by one as they scored against his skin and marked him. What fragile protection his ice magic offered shattered as he crumpled like a wounded bird towards the ground. The petals lingered briefly in air, creating a frosted, pink aura over his head.

He faintly heard the voice of another calling out to warn him. But he found that as he was swept away by the glassy petals, he did not care. The pain was nothing to the cruel relief the soft-edged memories of remembrance brought. He reached out and let her dance at his fingertips even when blood, thick and rich in color like Benihime's eyes, flooded over his fragile human skin. He let her taste him and satiate her hunger upon it. She was like a cherry colored whirlwind, exquisite and beautiful like the cold. And just as quickly she had flown up to greet him, she settled down and buried him under mounds of sakura-like blades.

Nonplussed Byakuya tightened his fingers around the flower-guard hilt, wary now that the soul cutter was whispering secrets to his ears and his alone. Tiny voices swarmed his mind as if every one of petal-like fragments were speaking out in turn. He took a step back, away from his bleeding opponent. The message was clear _'do not come near'. _

But the boy was dangerous, even more of a threat than Kurosaki had ever been. He called Senbonzakura back and she separated from the boy's body with affection-tinged reluctance. He saw that aside from the shredding of the boy's arm, she had let no harm come to the rest of his body.

"You're... real." He said in quiet wonder, staring at the elegant katana in the stoic captain's hand. He had heard the exchange. He had heard, felt and knew her words as they were vehemently fired at her master. Senbonzakura could harm him no more but in his present condition, he knew that nothing else was really needed to erase him off the surface of the earth.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes.

'Kill him, destroy him'

'**Not yet'**

'_...not yet'_

Who...

The night was waning. He had his duties and the plane unnerved him immensely. Two potential shinigami in the human world, but no... That wasn't quite the reason he had in mind.

They just needed _one_.

Byakuya held out a steady hand, the glow of a complex kidou move forming beneath his fingers.

'#63, thunder roar cannon'

He saw his hand bleeding through slit eyelids. He wiggled his fingers—tried—and to move away from the line of fire. He knew the spell well. It had been one of the tenth division captain's specialties as the boy was yet too immature in stature to be able to utilize him to his fullest extent. Practicing with Hinamori Momo had given him his immunity; his reiatsu had given him all the power he had ever needed. Hyourinmaru prayed that his body could hope to do half as well as he stared into the eerily beautiful matrix of his demise.

'No'

Benihime Akane stood protectively in front of the young boy, her zanpakuto glowing with the aura of her reiatsu as she cut open the back of Byakuya's hand.

"Benihime," said Byakuya, faltering for yet a second time that night. He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle as he took in the woman's graceful form under the moonlight, his eyes bewildered.

"Kuchiki-kun," she greeted curtly.

"Benihime Akane, it's a surprise... seeing you here."

The woman smiled prettily

"I could say the same of you."

'**Close your eyes...'**

'**Are you lost Hyourinmaru?'**

-x-

Soft, soothing murmurs crowded him as he struggled through the tar-like state of his consciousness. Thoughts flowed sluggishly backwards, downwards almost as if there was a giant black hole in the middle of his universe. Kind of like being flushed down the world's biggest toilet in slow motion.

"...and if you are awake, I did not dare give you more sedatives. You've lost too much blood..."

There was a burning candle in the room; he could smell the scented wax as it softened under the yellow-edged flame. He slipped his right hand free from the sheets and found it stiff and restrained. He rubbed it against his cheek; there were bandages around them, obviously stained in blood. He licked the tattered edges before retracting his tongue at the aseptic tang. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness.

"Or you are completely free to believe that I withheld from giving you drugs because I am angry at you."

Blinking blankly for a moment, he laughed then choked and laughed some more.

"You don't change."

"Neither do you," and she yanked hard on a knot. He curled in pain. With a gentler hand she stretched him out and covered him with a thick blanket.

"How do you feel?"

"...like... I can think more clearly"

And it was true. He remembered the vastness of the sky and the ocean and the fine line of horizon and land that had separated it. He remembered who he was and who he had been, he remembered the white-haired boy who should have been at his place and he, as an inseparable part of the indomitable soul. Now he knew where things had gone wrong, he shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be here, no one should have been here.

"It is probably because there are equal numbers of blood cells in your brain in comparison to other parts of your body." Benihime idly commented as she pushed two pills beneath his tongue and made him swallow. The pills were covered in some sort of a slimy substance allowing easy passage through his throat. But it didn't mean that he had to like it and his stomach rebelled as he felt the medicine's passage through his esophagus.

"And who would know it better than you..." he wheezed out as she raised his head and offered him water. He took a few sips, it was warm, and shook his head. She set the bowl down, raising a fine eyebrow as her fingers came off the striped mug with a trace of moisture. "What happened?" he asked, eyes fluttering shut as the woman cleaned up.

"Well you got your ass handed to you... what was that?" Benihime gave him a pointed look before continuing, "Kuchiki Rukia has been taken back to the Soul Society on charges of handing over her shinigami powers to a civilian human being, failure to report her status, and overstaying in the material world. As for Ichigo, he is alright, a little more banged up than I'd like him to be but alive. But..." she turned to put away the items one by one in a small cabinet by the corner. "You already knew that, and you know what is to happen."

"Just the reports my shinigami had to file. You have no idea what collateral damage one ryouka can cause but that wasn't what I was asking." His dark lashes swept over his pale cheeks. He stuck a tongue out, trying to wet his lips. "Do you...?"

She shook her head,

"Only the barest glimpses, you remember everything." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, right now I do... I don't know if I'll be myself when I wake up... and..." There was a different kind of ache building up inside of him. One cast by emptiness rather than pain. He missed the echo of colors against the blasted landscape. He missed being the almighty dragon. He even missed being a heavily sealed sword. But most of all he missed Toushiro.

He was glad that Benihime was too focused on remembering what she remembered than on his pinched facial features. She tilted her head slightly, locks of shiny black hair coiling in her lap. "We got caught." His eyes glowed, like a star ruby. Her eyes too shone simmering red.

"Our shinigami got caught, fools. They should have listened to us." Silence reigned after that and she stretched out her hands. "Will we even remember anything after this conversation? It feels surreal," she reached out to the disguised kodachi hidden in her sleeve, "to think that we've switched places... But why us Hyourinmaru? Why not Kurosaki and Zangetsu? How many of us are truly here?"

"And Senbonzakura," he added earning an unimpressed 'huh' from the woman. He let out a small sigh and snuggled back into his pillow. Being a spirit allowed him to experience a variety of sensations. But having a physical body—being a magical sword did not count—was another thing altogether. Perhaps for the first time he was feeling pain. His chest ached and he had an inkling that his damaged wrist was still bleeding. His eyes stung and his mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton balls but oddly enough, his ankle, the one that should have prevented his audacious rescue the night before, was fine. He raised his foot experimentally to check.

No pain, but then he had always been a fast healer. But was that even possible in a human body? He frowned, trying to twist his tongue around the words that would let him speak. He expelled a low breath, unable to fathom why he felt so weak when she put a tender hand over his face, gently guiding his eyelids over his chocolate irises. "Benihime... I'm blind." She froze, so suddenly she accidentally dug one of her manicured nails into his eye. He hissed in pain and she apologized,

"I'm sorry." She forced the lids of one eye apart and peered in deeply past the coolly shaded whites and deep ruby. "And you choose to tell me about this now?"

"You know I've been blind for the better part of this century," he answered trying to bat her hand away. "But this body isn't supposed to be blind." She muttered a quick 'there's nothing wrong with your eye...' before shining a flashlight in it. He shifted sleepily, both eyes half-mast as she checked him over as best as she could.

"Perhaps your soul is causing your vision to decay; _you_ never told me what went wrong with your eyes." He hummed slightly, his red irises lighting up with a quiet fire. The glow seemed so wrong in his eyes that she wanted to laugh, disregard what she had just seen. "It's... probably the shock after fighting Senbonzakura. Sleep Hyourinmaru... you'll feel better in the morning." she said fondly knowing they would not receive anymore answers. She sighed and stood up to exit the room when a slight rustling sound alerted her to her patient's movements. Annoyed at the direct disobedience, she was about to give him a choice between being knocked out and being drugged when he came up behind her and hugged her.

He flung his thin arms around her shoulders, his knees digging into the back of her thighs as he fought to remain in a standing position. he butted her head lightly with his chin and placed their heads side by side over the curve of her neck, temple to temple with his skin slightly cooler from the loss of blood. He began gently to rock her back and forth, his dark-lined brown eyes closing.

"Thank you princess."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 7/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings: **mild Benihime/Hyourinmaru

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human with a thousand memories he doesn't understand. Not everyone is who they're supposed to be but he's not sure if he wants to make things right.

* * *

-

-

* * *

She brought a hand up to his, feeling the comfortable weight of his body against her back. Gently settling him down against the floor, she brushed a hand through his dark hair and grumbled quietly,

"You owe me."

-x-

A phantom pain lanced through his right wrist and woke him up. He instinctively curled his fingers around his supposed wound, feeling it flow past his fingers and drip onto the smothering bandaging. But it didn't. His fingers didn't come off pink and dripping but he wiped it anyways against his shirt.

He got up and felt dizzy but thought it would be prudent not to puke on the coral lined tatami mats. He blindly groped at the walls before pushing open the windows and emptying the severely lacking contents of his stomach onto the bed of flowers below.

"How thoughtless of you," a feminine voice chided and he turned around, nearly throwing up again in the process. As he mentally chanted for his unruly stomach to settle down, Benihime leaned over and tapped her manicured nails on the window sill, her bright vermillion shoulder catching the sun. She gently tugged at her collar with her right hand. "These are absolutely lovely when fed blood a week before they bloom, now I'll be lucky if something grows at all." she stared expectantly at him "welcome back to the realm of living Hyourinmaru."

"Thank you" he said slowly, "I think."

'_We don't have much time...'_

'_What if this already isn't real?'_

'Toushiro...'

"Benihime-san, what am I doing here?" the woman froze

"You don't remember?"

"Something must have happened or I wouldn't be here." he stated flatly. His voice lowered from his already quiet whisper into an indecipherable murmur, "what happened to me Benihime-san?"

"Is this what you were trying to warn me about Hyourinmaru...?" Benihime mused quietly as she looked out the window and beyond the vomit covered flowerbed, wondering when she would find the time between her candy store and redoing her nails to hose down the still tight blossoms.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing oh cute one."

Outside the window, she noticed Jinta grumbling as he made his way over, Ururu following sullenly as she tugged on a rubber green hose. She poked his nose with her finger and guided him towards the main room,

"Ichigo woke up then fell back asleep; its morning now, would you like anything for breakfast?"

"Pineapples" he blurted out. His face colored fiercely, his freckles morphing into bigger splotches across the bridge of his nose. It took all what she had to not cave into the temptation to pinch his scarlet cheeks. It was odd, seeing any form of strong color upon the boy, especially a blush. "...that is if you have any..."

She smiled kindly, lightly fanning herself. At this he relaxed, but jumped up once the hose started to pump out water with a belch outside the window. A scowling redhead and a timid girl began to clean the flower beds before the midday sun hit and lured in a swarm of flies. He looked absolutely disturbed at seeing the two children work their way to free the green wreathed blossoms from his corrosive stomach content.

"I believe in child labor," she said magnanimously as she led him out of the room. "How about working for me as a cashier cutie? I'm sure some of the girls would just love that."

-x-

He chewed delightedly upon the frozen fragments of pineapples as he slowly worked his way through a large bowl of ice cream. After finding nothing containing pineapples aside from a few assorted round candies, Benihime had given him an entire carton of ice cream to eat. Though not the healthiest of breakfasts, the way and the speed in which he ate told her that she would have regretted it if she had offered him the mild palette of rice and pickled vegetables.

Feeling Benihime's gaze he offered her a shy grin. She smiled back fondly and left, just as a spike in reiatsu informed them that Kurosaki Ichigo was very much alive and awake. It was immediately followed by a string of obscenities in which the strawberry-blonde made clear his sentiments about the too-tight bandaging across his chest.

And as the scarlet-eyed woman and the other teen discussed the otherworldly matters in the possibility of one Kuchiki Rukia's rescue, he slowed his consumption of the frozen desert as he sank his teeth into one particularly large chunk of pineapple. Rolling his eyes left and right to see if there were any audience to witness what he was about to do, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

'_Stay sharp...'_

'_I don't like the feel of this...'_

'_Toushiro...'_

'**Toushiro?'**

It was official, he was hearing voices. He glumly opened his eyes and resumed eating. His hand shook but he immediately shoved the spoon down his throat. He repeated the motion over and over again as voices clamored inside his head and out and his gut began to twist in an uncomfortable fashion that had nothing to do with his digestive tracks. He emptied the gallon of ice cream and sat back, kicking his legs out with no reason in particular.

He was a Junior at Karakura high, got good grades, was a good student, got bullied around, had no friends, had no life, was normal, human, child, alive, sane.

Or...

'Again? Give it up. No one's that lucky. Next time...'

Next time? There was a next time? He laughed wondering why in nine hells the voices in his mind so varied in personality and accent when it was his psyche they had been carved from. It grew so despondent that Benihime poked her head out of Ichigo's room, her black hair flying in a dark halo around her as twisted his hand in his hair.

'Prove it, prove it, prove it...'

'Make it rain, fast.'

'**...Make it cold'**

And suddenly—miraculously—it began to rain.

-x-

He sat on the rooftop of the shop, uncaring of the rain soaking his skin. He drew up his knees beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around them in a tight circle, idly tracing the puckered bumps as his body temperature began to drop. His eyes drooped and he tossed his head back, catching droplets of rain in his mouth and nostrils in a futile attempt to drown. He grinned, unable to bear not knowing, of knowing and not being able to do anything. He stretched out his body and wiggled his toes, trying to catch as many raindrops as he could before the summer shower was over.

It was strange, the feelings that his human skin—_really? Was it?—_brought him. The sensation of dampness was odd and oddly sticky as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His fingers, clumsy with the sudden chill, popped off the ivory colored buttons and sent them scattering over the traditionally styled roof. He sat their as he stripped, his naked flesh borne to the elements as he silently wished the world colder, and colder, and colder...

And down below, under the cover of a cat-print umbrella, Benihime looked up in concern.

-x-

"It feels alright you know... being human."

His voice was no longer hysterical though hit quivered slightly at the last note. Benihime set a mug in front of him, filled with hot chocolate she had Tessai dig out from the pantry. His finger shook as he grabbed the curved handle; the edges around his lips were graying blue. "It's... safe." She could not believe that this boy had been the greatest of all ice family. She could not believe that this boy had been a soul cutter, memory or no memory.

"Drink" she commanded firmly and he obeyed. He took a tiny sip, wincing when the hot liquid seared his tongue. His bony shoulders trembled beneath the damp towel as he swallowed a mouthful, then another, then another until she began to suspect that he was trying to drown out something more than cold. She took the mug away from him when it was half-full half-empty, his mouth already blistering around the corners and his tongue redder than her eyes. He looked forlornly at her as if he was lost and couldn't figure out where he was.

"And it feels okay that I don't really remember a damned thing." He returned to hugging himself, his fists clenching sporadically at his upper arm through the purple towel. "I don't want to fight, I never wanted to fight." She brushed his bangs away sympathetically. They curled, wet against his cheeks before bouncing back. The air was becoming cool, the cream spirals in the hot chocolate dispersing in the frosty slush. He gasped surprised, his mouth open in a perfectly formed 'o' as he tried to drag air down his nostrils. Benihime hugged him, holding him close beneath her chin even when his aura threatened to freeze her alive. She rocked him gently back and forth, threading their reiatsu together. _"Gods... why am I still __**here**__?"_

"Hyourinmaru," she said gently when his eyes drooped, one lid fluttering shut completely. "It wasn't your fault."

-x-

They returned to school the day after, both Hyourinmaru and Ichigo. Benihime had to drop into explain Kuchiki Rukia's absence. Orihime gave both concerned looks. Ichigo muttered something about how he was going to save the girl if it was the last thing he did. Hyourinmaru turned away; he knew that the strawberry-blonde would train with Benihime for half a month before leaving. He would probably be left behind and somehow, he didn't mind at all.

He spent the rest of the day feeling jumpy and out of place. He mostly hid in between breaks when he learned that a few of the seniors were actively hunting for him. The entire grade—minus perhaps Inoue and Kurosaki—hated him for starting a blood feud between upper and lower classes but fought valiantly for the sake of it. During lunch, he had seen many scuffles broken up by teachers. He shivered when he saw a lanky senior beat the crap out of a random freshman for giving him a 'funny' look. He merely ducked his head and walked away.

'**Coward...'**

'I don't care, it doesn't matter, I don't even _know_ him.'

No it wasn't really working.

But should he let go...

He would never be able to return...

He would never be normal...

He wouldn't be Toushiro

He would be Hyourinmaru.

'Would that be so terrible?'

A lovely girl with soulful eyes, bright like the sun and an easy smile.

He stopped, his nostrils flaring. A pink-tinted film crawled over his eyes casting the world in a rosy light. There were clusters of girls whispering to one another. They looked all at him as they might look upon a stranger, someone—something—that didn't belong.

Behind him, the freshman was still crying out in pain—where was the thrice damned teachers?

How many times had he dreamed of simply beating the shit out of people for looking at him oddly, for isolating him, for treating him as he was the bottom feeder of the high school hierarchy, a nobody?

How many times had he seen their reproach for glances, spurning him for what he symbolized and of jealousy? How many had he fought trying to warn? To protect? To guard? How many times had he fallen trying to keep the world still and balanced for others to live in? How many times had he tried to destroy it? Out of spite, out of anger, out of loneliness and pain?

'When someone needs you...'

_...you deliver_, he realized. It was startling in its clarity, a wondrous feeling. The space around him stretched and closed in. He turned around…

...and flung his book like a Frisbee.

Really the worst case scenario was that the senior would receive permanent brain damage. The best... well the worst for him was that it hadn't knocked the older teen out, just stunned him for a bit. And as luck would have it the senior leapt to his feet mere moments after being knocked down, displacing diamond as the hardest material known to mankind. An egg-shaped bruise starting to swell on his forehead, the dark-haired senior bellowed angrily at him. He stared back unruffled, daring the older teen to have a go at him.

'When did I start getting so violent?'

He figured he was taking it quite well. Watching anime on TV out on the streets helped, the general mindset of Japan kept him fairly open-minded. Maybe he was slightly delusional after whatever he had done days before. Yeah, he laughed inwardly, that was it. It was probably just a phase he was going through, what was the technical term for it again? He would look it up when he got back to the dormitories; he'd even research a bit to make sure that he didn't need professional help.

He dodged a fist aimed at his face and held his ankles out for the senior to trip over. And while the upperclassman groaned and writhed on the ground, he ground his fingers against his ankles remembering that it had been broken mere hours ago—before it had been miraculously healed in about less than 10 minutes—and that his body wasn't really made for brawling in the first place.

...wait, that wasn't the problem.

He walked carefully over to the red-faced freshman, still looking as though he couldn't believe that he was alive. Deliberately ignoring the grateful look on the boy's pudgy face, he gingerly picked up his book and tucked it close beneath his elbow. Then he got then hell out of there.

Only later did he realize that the students had broken their ranks for him—like the Red Sea parting before Moses—not out of fear but with an expression of wonderment in their eyes. Something had changed... something...—he liked it.

He turned over in his bed. He had skipped dinner. No doubt they would be sharing yet another one of his 'psychotic episodes' around the table. He wondered how many days he had before getting kicked out for excessive violence in school. He wondered if his father would remember to call him. He wondered if Benihime would take him in as she had Rukia. He wondered... how he knew these things.

'**Toushiro'**

The voice laughed for him, amused in spite of everything else, ready to support him even when the world was about to fall from under his feet.

He decided he needed to see a shrink sometime in the nearest future.

-x-

Thursday he strode confidently down the halls, not sure why that was since a nerd noticed was a nerd dead. Oddly enough, people left him alone. No one tried to single him out to blame him for the war of the grades. Apparently, the rumors of his violent tendencies had gone around faster than the news of how upperclassman Keiko had broken up with the junior Daichi for the umpteenth time. People stared at him with a strange mix of fear and reverence.

...he would have been lying had he said he did not enjoy it.

He grinned slightly, the corners of his face creasing upon the numerous freckles.

A heavy hand descended upon his shoulder and he flinched, swerving away with a hiss feeling as though his skin was burning from the contact. The teacher raised an eyebrow at him and drew back as if dealing with an irate cat, tuffs of grey hair standing on end.

"Hyourinmaru-kun, I was wondering if I could speak to you."

'Suzuki-sensei' his mind supplied quietly

'**Your counselor'**

The other voice in his head barbed, seemingly impatient.

'Huh' the man started wringing his hands, no doubt aware of the reputation Hyourinmaru had managed to swiftly acquire for himself in the past few days. He remembered that he had frequented Suzuki's office in the past, sometimes to take advantage of what little 'help' that the counselor had offered and mostly just hiding out while the balding man talked on the phone and put him on hold.

He noticed the man's eyes staring at his own before dipping down to shift over his shoulders.

Oh, right, he was supposed to be a low self-esteem, loser archetype.

He tried to shift his stance, look like an emo—only he wasn't an emo and he was supposed to be a bullied misfit. Wasn't that what he was before all this mess started, before he woke up one morning and decided 'hey I don't feel like putting up with this crap anymore'. He groaned internally, it sounded better in his head. He decided to keep that to himself—in his head.

"Huh," he said out loud.

"Something bothering you Hyourinmaru-kun?"

'Why do you care?'

'**Easy Toushiro'**

'Don't call me that, don't ever call me that.'

His only reply was a bubble of pained affection.

"I'm fine Suzuki-sensei."

"I'm not implying that there is anything wrong with you, just well... uhh you seem different."

'_You seem lost Hyourinmaru'_

"I'm not crazy." he said quietly. The teacher's eyebrows rose,

"I never said that you were."

"I'm sorry" he said, putting on the most earnest expression that he could muster. "This week has been very stressful for me." And before he could elaborate any further Suzuki flattered,

"Of course, really I have no idea what they were thinking when they accused you of beating up those seniors. Really," he shakes his head for emphasis, still oozing with false sympathy. The freckled teen knew that the counselor was actually discreetly looking at his watch—ten minutes till lunch was over. "I told them m'boy _Toushiro_ wouldn't have done..." the temperature dropped and Hyourinmaru slowly dragged out his breath.

He eyed the cloud of moisture warily as the man carried on, unperturbed and perhaps thinking that the school air conditioning had finally kicked in.

'I'm getting to be worse at this than Toushiro.'

Whoever that was

-x-

He made it through the rest of Thursday and most of Friday without a hitch. Only when the bell rang and a blushing girl came forward to offer a heartfelt thanks for rescuing her brother on Wednesday did he realize the true implication of his actions. He felt flattered when she offered a pen with a yellow ribbon around its middle. The other junior smiled shyly and said thank you once more before skipping off to her friends. He weighed the pen in his hand, feeling warmth spread through his stomach.

He shook his head and put his pen in a pencil case.

'**Girls already?'**

The sentiment was mocking but scorched with humor.

'I work fast.'

He snickered slightly under his breath,

'**You're a hero.'**

A quiet acceptance, almost as if he had been expecting it. The cheer and warmth disappeared as fast as they had come. He felt as though he had been sucker punched in the stomach. He unbuttoned his collar, nausea washing over his thin form.

o

o

o

'No I'm not'

"Umm, are you alright Hyourinmaru-kun?"

He had half-collapsed against the wall, his forehead stuck on the dirty glass window. Orihime gently touched his back, electricity leaping through the connection as he stiffened. He turned around, his dark hair shifting at the sudden motion. He flushed, desperation clawing through his innards.

He didn't know what was going on, he did but didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to analyze what this meant, for him and others. He was satisfied; he had no ambitions, no wants, not since...

_One soul, two bodies, one soul, no body, half a soul, one body_

Sweat sprung to his head with the effort and he backed against the cold wall, the window sill digging into his spine as he shook his head. Suddenly, something became very clear to him.

'**She is...'**

"What are you doing here?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 8/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** mild Hyourinmaru/Kyouga Suigetsu

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru wakes up as a human with a thousand memories he doesn't understand. Not everyone is who they're supposed to be but he's not sure if he wants to make things right.

* * *

For Kurosaki Ichigo, Hyourinmaru Toushiro had not existed until the early hours of the Saturday morning in the past week. Maybe he had taken notice of the junior on Friday when the shorter teen had called out to him, wide eyed and hopeful.

He didn't want to look into it too much—he still felt too guilty for blowing him off the first time.

And with the events of the past week weighing heavily on his mind, when he first saw the other junior cornered against the wall by Orihime Inoue was,

"Oy Toushiro, you're a hard guy to find."

"It's Hyourinmaru." And immediately the dark-haired teen covered his mouth with one hand. Ichigo felt a sudden chill, his mind running at 200 miles per hour at the sheer wrongness of the words that spouted from his classmate's mouth. He made a small sound at the back of his throat, something that sounded vaguely like a mix up between a choke and a gurgle.

Hyourinmaru stared at him with a shuttered expression. Ichigo began to wonder if he was going to throw punches. He had seen what the skinny kid could do and it hadn't been very pretty. But then if he had been bold enough to take on a shinigami captain on his own... and the fair-haired teen still could not shake the conversation on Sunday out of his mind.

And as the freckled teen ran off Ichigo and Orihime shared a look, the former looking irate and distracted while the latter looked on in concern. Ichigo didn't really care for Hyourinmaru. Not that the fair-haired teen hated him, it was more along the lines of cool and indifferent 'great, we know each other, bye.' And it hadn't been exactly inspiring to have Hyourinmaru, the one boy who couldn't kick a soccer ball into the goal when it was _three feet_ in front of him, rescue his ass instead of the other way around.

He was grateful, but he had his pride. Benihime had explained the dark-haired junior's situation while somehow managing to omit the entire story. In the end, the conclusion had been that Hyourinmaru would not participate in the fight. Not unless hell somehow froze overnight and the world ended. Ichigo didn't see any of the aforementioned events coming true within the next two weeks.

Ichigo swore and gave the girl beside him a reluctant look.

How did one go about recruiting people for an inter-dimensional rescue mission?

-x-

"We've been waiting for you freak."

...Was what greeted him when he finally made his way outside.

Wasn't that what they have been calling him for years? A freak of nature, unnatural and better left for dead in the frozen tundra of his birth.

A gentle hand, an echo of what a touch should have been, brushed over his shoulders reassuringly.

It somehow gave him the strength to go on.

Stomach tingling as if a girl he had been crushing on—there was a pretty senior in class 3-8 he had worked with tidying up the office—had given him a kiss, he held his head up-

'_We're all here.'_

'_Good then let's go.'_

'_Wait...'_

'_Who is that?'_

'_Don't look into her eyes!'_

-And cringed reflexively as if waiting for a blow.

Now is not a good time, he thought despairingly to himself as arms snaked below his armpits to hold him up. The first blow caught him off guard and the first thought that came to his mind was how pretty and delicate Senbonzakura could hit harder than 'Nakamura-_sempai_'. Not that he had experienced it first hand, but he had seen many a daring zampakuto make a pass at her and fail miserably. The thought lifted his lips and earned him a harder hit across his jaw. He was pretty sure it had knocked a couple of his teeth loose though he wasn't sure if it would set him back too much if they were going to grow back...

Ouch, he really needed acting lessons because...

'**You're smiling again.'**

Okay, now is _really_ not a good time. He felt a bit more desperate which was really what the bullies wanted in the first place. The entire school knew that most of seniors had something for the junior with one too many rash-like freckles on his face, if they beat him up too badly the truth would come out sooner or later. They went back to tenderizing his guts. He could feel the senior behind him huffing every time the fists hit and drove him backwards.

'**Fight dammit.'**

He didn't want to. He was tired, he didn't want to fight and woe to whoever thought otherwise—even the annoyingly helpful one at the back of his head. Maybe if he lied down and took it this one time, they would leave and never look back. Too good to be true but one can never have too much hope right?

'**They need you'**

Nope, they didn't need a crazy dragon on their asses. He wasn't exactly sure what was up with that. He was a normal kid, really, normal, mediocre, boring, your standard punch bag throughout school.

'**I need you.'**

What...?

Right, death gods and their soul cutters. The problem was that he wasn't a death god and he certainly did not have a soul cutter to his name. If he did... well...

Well?

Impossibility

'_Sit upon the frozen heavens!'_

'Well when you put it that way...' he thought drunkenly, his body having gone numb in the past 15 seconds. His right wrist had been broken during his unconscious retaliations. Though he could keep his mind calm and pretty much useless, it seemed that his body had other ideas. He had a feeling that he should be feeling pain from the mess that his right hand was in. he could see the purple and black fingerprints spreading across his arms.

'**If you don't stop them...'**

His arm was broken, how tragic. It was bleeding; Senbonzakura's wound had never healed properly. Even four days after he was constantly changing bandages and chugging Gatorade. The coppery scent didn't sting his nose as he had expected. Even when the crimson liquid wet his mouth from when one of Nakamura's friends decided that he wasn't paying attention.

It dribbled down his lips and soaked his chin. It didn't taste like he had expected it to. It was bland, tasteless but warm. Since when had his blood ever been warm?

'**Then I will.'**

A shadow... no a shape though it cast no shadows over the ground. It did not block the sinking sun, it wasn't solid, and it wasn't even really there. He just knew its presence because it had been so deeply ingrained into him. A soul sibling after his own heart—somehow he found the strength to slap Takahashi in the mouth. It hadn't been a hard hit, but the senior was still drinking asparagus and chicken porridge after having his mouth wired shut. He ducked and rolled, sneakers and cloven hooves thudding over the ground as he sat up.

Wind swept through them, ruffling their uniform—quick enough to chill but not nearly powerful enough to injure. It was a distraction, sent to protect him from the others. The seniors saw nothing, felt the bite of the wind and perhaps heard the ringing footsteps as slim ankles danced swiftly between them. But he, Hyourinmaru, saw a white-haired boy with green eyes, smaller, frailer, weaker but bigger hearted and more courageous than he would ever be. The image was lost when Watanabe swung his fist and broke his concentration.

It was nothing, a fluke, he was seeing things—again—and he should have been grateful to the older teen for the correction only he now felt as though the handsome senior had murdered his best friend—in a way he had. The feeling swelling up inside him was far from warm and fuzzy, puppies and rainbows. There was someone whispering commands into his ears, something incomprehensible that they might as well have been trying to speak Tasmanian. Thick veins crawled over his vision, like cracks in ice offering blurred glimpse of what laid below. The conflict was tearing him in two. He did the only thing left possible to him at that point. He opened his mouth and screamed. Only it didn't exactly come out as a scream, more like a roar, only too loud, throaty, threatening, terrifying, and too full to have come from him.

The shadows quickly claimed his eyes. He stumbled down to his knees, his chin grazing the ground as the waves pushed his tormentors off their feet. He sunk his nails into the packed earth, the wind picking up around him as his spine arched with the itching need to fly.

'**Toushiro...'**

He could no longer see but he could hear, he could smell, he could taste. It wasn't words that bounced around his head when the soul cutter(?) decided to speak to him. They were emotions, they were thoughts, they were something no one else had the right to be privy to and yet they lay bare against his mind like a print in a language only he could read.

He didn't like it, he loved it, craved it—instant blackmail—but he didn't want it.

It hadn't been the reason why he had chosen the boy after all.

'It's...'

'Hyourinmaru-!'

Once he had been the greatest of his generation, the greatest of all snow-ice family. Some had even called him the counterbalance to Ryuujin Jakka's flames.

He could hear the pulse of the pseudo liquid in their veins; the glow of their weak souls as they fled then swarmed, doubling back at him. He felt how each and every one of them shattered, divided, then settled against his skin like a coat of armor. A layer of scales cast in souls.

'**You'll kill them if you don't stop'**

A fact.

'I don't care'

'**This is what you wanted'**

'You're wrong then, I wanted...'

'I needed'

'Something I shouldn't have touched'

'Something I never needed in the first place'

'**Liar'**

Huh, had that counted as low self-esteem or verbal abuse?

And still the world landed in broken pieces around him.

-x-

Something was moving above him.

"Hyourinmaru-kun! Wake up!"

He tried to move his head and it rolled slightly until his cheek was pressed against the dirt. Right eye swollen shut; he forced his left one open and saw...

...holy shit

He scrambled to his knees immediately despite the aches and pains jolting across his body. His mouth fell open, his nails digging into his knees. A consolatory hand pressed against his back and it burned, was warm, hurt him, and comforted him.

Orihime's face drifted into view, her copper eyes watering slightly as she smoothed down his mussed hair. He immediately jerked to his feet, face contorting into a bland poker face as he glared hard at the girl before him. She was fidgeting, her teeth methodically chewing her lower lip from right to left. There were several pins clenched in her hand, each appearing as dancing apparitions that regarded him coolly at best angry at worst.

He noticed that they were still in the school field where night had fallen, the distant glimmer of the sun an orange line across the horizon. The bruises had faded from under his ribs—she had healed him—but his left wrist remained wet and sticky. There was still a bit of red filtering through the scabbed clots.

But that hadn't been what had caught his attention.

In fact, it had been the furthest thing from his mind.

"_No"_

"Are you wearing pineapple-print panties...?"

Strangely the other junior didn't blush. He did however—wait that wasn't what he was going to say either.

"Stop it." He hissed, trying to dredge up the reluctant memories from his mind. The gentle force against his temples helped. He trembled slightly but regained his balance. His right eye parted reluctantly. One eye saw what the boy in him had expected to see; trampled grass, a solid footprint in the mud, and his school bag with its strap missing. Out of the other eye he saw the glass falling from the sky, the ground frosted with snow and gaping holes in the walls of this world. With one eye he regarded Orihime at a distance, out the other he took in the tired face of a woman with brassy-gold hair tumbling down her shoulders in waves. Her fingers writhed behind her as she ducked her head and waited, her hands beheld a silver mirror with loops of gilded gold coming out of its frame. The images merged and he shook his head furiously, trying to chase the cobwebs out of his brain. "Enough." His eyes bled red though this time he didn't go blind. He pictures became clearer because he wasn't _seeing_ what was in front of him—he felt, he smelled, he heard. "You're not her." he growled out, his nose crinkling until his freckles formed a band of dark blots across the bridge of his nose. "Stop wearing her face." he bore his teeth at her menacingly—as much as a fifteen year old student could be—and tried to make himself seem as large as possible. "Show yourself Kyouga Suigetsu."

She smiled, smug-regret-all-rolled-into-one.

"Of course," she replied smoothly, "I am not Wabisuke after all."

The image of the copper-eyed Japanese girl dissolved and a familiar brunette stood where she had, looking chagrined. Catching the end of his narrowed gaze she bit her lips and sighed, the threads of her uniform unraveling into translucent ribbons that shrouded her pale form.

-x-

Kyouga Suigetsu came to him in a beautiful vision compromised of gold and steely black. He knelt before her, naked and exposed as the shroud of spirits was lifted from his shoulders. She cupped his chin and he leaned into it with a quiet whimper, his eyes straining open in a vain attempt to see.

"It has been a long time Hyourinmaru."

The spirit-turned-human shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Why do my clothes always disappear in these situations?"

She laughed gently, more to mitigate him than anything else. Her hand glided over the planes of his freckled cheeks before leaving. His breath hitched at the lack of contact and he settled back to his knees sullen as she pressed a cool thumb over his lids.

Liquid formed on his dark eyelashes and cascaded down the side of his face. He stuck a tongue out and licked the salt and sulfur flavor off of his skin. His tears—theoretically since he didn't think crying was a regular thing for soul cutters—burned on his tongue. He twitched before collecting more of the accursed taste off of his lips.

"You can not stay here."

"Yes I can." He gritted out.

A ruined voice, there were blotted lines stretching across the soft underside of his neck. The knotted flesh quivered as the surrounding area flushed to a reddish hue.

"You are not happy here."

"It doesn't really matter if I'm happy or not, at the end of this story I'll be dead."

"You do not have to be."

"You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?"

"What am I saying Hyourinmaru? What could I possibly be saying?"

"You have your duties to your shinigami."

"And you have yours! Captain Hitsugaya, do you not remember?! You are being selfish, you are being a coward!"

"Appropriate coming from you," She flinched back as if she had been hit. Hyourinmaru turned away, chagrined. The colors of his eyes blazed brightly, "Sorry but... I like it here."

"You like it here." She repeated. "All this..." she swept her hands out, fingers gently pointing towards the dark sunset, the verdant trees, the dry field, supple grass, and the pale building. "From the supervisor of your dormitories to your classmates. They are your creations, the souls you have swallowed. I simply supplied the method but you alone fuel this. They're not real." She looked at him with a quiet frown, distress visible in her mirror-like eyes. "I am going against my shinigami as it is but I do not want you to die." She threw her arms around his neck. "Oh Hyourinmaru, your time has yet to come."

"This is what I want." He said faintly,

"But what you want... is not always what you need."

He broke away from her, breathing through his mouth. He ran his palm down his face, leaving trails of earthy colors across his cheeks. He swore softly, his heart struggling to be set free from the cage of bones. Kyouga Suigetsu tried once more to placate him.

'Even if this is a dream, I want to be normal; I want to be left alone. I don't want to fight, I don't want to protect, I don't want the responsibility, and Toushiro? He deserves better.'

'**Stop acting like a child'**

'_Stop'_

"Stop it." He managed to spit; arms protesting as he slowly eased his body parallel to the ground. "I don't want to remember. Stop tempting me" his vision blurred. His wants and needs conflicting against each other in a dizzying storm. He dug his nails into his scalp as he held his head between his knees. Out of one eye, he saw blood spattered pavement and dusty footprints. Out of the other he saw nothing and everything that was in it.

Hyourinmaru laughed, Hyourinmaru the child wept, Hyourinmaru the dragon grieved.

"_**I..."**_

"I don't want to go back."


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 9/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** mild Hyourinmaru/Kyouga Suigetsu

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out. Spoilers in later chapters

* * *

On Friday, he woke up feeling miserable and significantly displaced while going through the motions of the day. His reality began to unravel sometime between the fourth and the fifth period, after drawing the consequent fourth or fifth set of flowers, and it began to occur to him that something could be seriously wrong with him other than the shallow mouthfuls of rice sitting in his stomach. Afternoon, after confronting the seniors he had blacked out... and had beaten them on a one-on-six brawl that ended with the 119 call.

Near midnight, he snuck out of his dormitories to tango with a more-or-less average Hollow before fainting like a sissy girl during assemblies**(1)** and landing in a family clinic that belonged to the Kurosaki family.

Saturday, at an ungodly hour in the morning, he assumed to have had another panic attack. He met Benihime, the eccentric owner of a candy shop that he had frequented in the past. Cue the uncomfortable de ja vu and his story almost sounds halfway sane—in a fictional world of course. Sunday, a scheduled Spanish Inquisition with one Kurosaki Ichigo, Monday, a surprising cycle of normality, one that he would have welcomed if it weren't for the fact that people treated him as though he had some terminal disease.

And of course, he was a glutton for punishment and set himself up by actually visiting Benihime Shouten where he was roped into rescuing Ichigo.

Somehow

He wasn't quite clear on that part, or even if he went. He seemed to have blacked out (again) and glossed over the finer details. Tuesday—after wiping Monday from his mind—he spent having a minor freak out as his mind carefully assembled the evidence up to date. After being reassured by Benihime—who happened to be elbow deep in a tub of taffies at the time—that it was perfectly normal for him to be hearing voices in his head he decided to rewind a bit, let it sit in the back closet for a while before he touched it.

All he could say was that it was one hell of a polka dotted elephant sitting in the room.

Wednesday, was like the recap of Friday only he knew—or thought he knew—what was wrong. And he got into another fight. Nothing too fancy and at least he kept conscious this time. Thursday, a brush with his school counselor that had him gritting his teeth in the end and cold air frosting the windows. Friday, a heartfelt 'thank you' present from a student whose younger brother he had rescued the day before. And a teasing jab from the supposedly real voice in his head that made him feel as though someone had kicked his puppy and ran over it twice.

He was pretty sure his shinigami didn't like being compared to a scrawny mutt.

And Friday, he was confronted by Kyouga Suigetsu who had in her own way told him to grow up. But then again, everyone had been expecting so much of him recently. Even the fictionally non-fictional voice had been nagging at him to stop acting like a 'child'.

He was offended, just because he enjoyed a healthy dose of sugar every now and then didn't necessarily mean he was a child.

Selfish yes, juvenile no.

Then he had somehow forced her away...

Crap

His nose promptly hemorrhaged.

It had been like the mental equivalent of downloading all his favorite Star Trek episodes into one floppy. Either that or it was like having a sledgehammer driven between his eyes, which ever one hurt more.

The kitchen lady-slash-dormitory supervisor came with a load of laundry, insisting that she use his window to hang them all. He staggered as he was pushed back onto his bed with one meaty shoulder. His head pitched and rolled, his legs folding against the hardwood floor. The stout woman turned around, her face like a round ball of dough. He met her eyes for one second, dazed mahogany against suspicious coffee. He promptly threw up all over her bunny slippers.

-x-

He came to, seeming to be tied to a chair and on trial for the murder of a pair of pink and fuzzy slippers. The evidence laid in front of his face, half-washed and still stinking with the residue puke smeared all over its lop ears.

A personal physician had come in. Also known as the neighbor who lived next door who had fought in what seemed like the World War One and lived. What medical expertise the man possessed encompassed and not strictly adhered to poking his eye out and pulling his tongue. And while his tongue rested limp and slippery between the man's shaking fingers, the elderly man shook his head and told him that it looked like a bad case of gangrene and they would have to amputate something.

Even the supervising woman looked dubious as he rocked sideways.

"Or maybe it's small pox." The man muttered, rubbing his rheumatic eyes.

-x-

It was Friday still—morning—the black lettered numbers not yet crossed out. The kitchen lady offered him stale cereal from where it had been hidden in the back of the cabinet. The milk was a day past expiration date but cool and refreshing. He grinned into his bowl as others stared at him with naked envy.

Laughter went out of his eyes when he remembered what he had done to bring it all back. How he had wrestled the control back under his wings to somehow _warp_ time. His stomach rumbled—not in a pleasant way, never—and he put a hand against the firm but soft—too soft, no good for fights—skin.

He pushed the bowl away, half eaten.

-x-

The day...

Had gone by exactly—down to the minutes and seconds—the same way it had...

...on Friday.

It was kind of cool

Not cool when a certain blonde charged over flinging people left and right.

"What did you do?!" Ichigo snarled, slamming him against the wall. Passersby looked in interest before turning away, scalded by the brunt of the blonde's glare. Hyourinmaru choked through the iron-grip, panic slow to simmer in him as he suddenly realized that his feet were no longer touching the floor. His eyes rolled up as the oxygen in his lungs swiftly became depleted. He shook as Ichigo twisted the uniform collar against his neck.

"You... remember..."

"Of course I remember! How do you think I felt when _Jinta_ kicked me awake?!"

Each and every word that followed thereafter was punctuated by another shove. His vision became spotty. He thought that maybe Kurosaki could kill him and that it wouldn't be bad. Maybe this would all end right here. After all, the blonde knew in a subconscious level that he was not human.

With a final shove Hyourinmaru was dropped. Ichigo's hand remained floating in air and slightly crooked as if longing to throttle the hell out of the smaller junior. A few girls and boys were holding his arms back. Orihime pulled him gently to his feet.

"What did you do?" Ichigo lunged for him again. A tall dark-skinned guy held him back but just barely. Hyourinmaru's eyes widened in response—he recognized the animal instinct, to fight, to protect, to defend. His pulse rose in an answering call, he needed to...

He wanted to...

Of course he decided that it was a good idea to pass out right there.

-x-

_"I was not lying. I do not want you to die."_

_'Not yet'_

_'**Not yet'**_

_No not yet_

_"I'm sorry." She flung her arms around him, eyes moist as she dipped her lips against his. She tasted like candy floss, sweet and light. She tasted like blood, riveting and thick. She tasted like the air, gentle and fleet. She tasted like the waters, mild and changing. And she tasted like him, cold and everlasting. It wasn't love, sweet, salty, bitter, tearful, painful—it was just her. Their teeth scraped against one another's and he remembered a time before it happened, the time when he had a mouthful of fangs and a better initiative to use them. But those time had gone and past and they were there trapped in the horrifying illusion Kyouga Suigetsu had created in his power. "I cannot, I will not let you see this..."_

_His mouth fell open and he began to fade. The sky became his wings, flung open so far that it encroached on the edge of space. The earth became his scaly hide, constantly moving and changing. The river tributaries became his blood, feeding him, keeping him alive. And still more of him the other soul cutter took, making sure that he would be slumbering deep inside himself when she slaughtered all the rest._

_This couldn't be happening._

_It was all a dream right?_

_Why couldn't he wake up?_

_His eyes grew dark and ignorant, oh so blissfully dull and stupid. Freckles sketched a star-struck nebula on his face as she drained him. And as he grew weaker, so did the internal barriers etched deep in his mind. And as her rosy fingers pervaded his mind without being even seared by frost, something inside him..._

_...broke out._

_Not yet!_

_A mind is a fragile thing._

_There is only so much it could accept before shutting down._

_And as luck would have it, this time he stayed awake through the whole ordeal._

_The teen pondered—really pondered, he got good grades, he washed his dirty socks—why they hell couldn't he seem to avoid the completely unnecessary drama in his life?_

_The silken ribbons swathing her shoulders came undone when an oversized claymore skewered through them. Metallic liquid flowed in swirls down her pearly skin. Her shoulder quivered, it mended before smoothing away without a scar. She pulled away from him, eyes diluted in shock._

_'**Leave him be...'**_

_There was some kind of a centaur-knight..._

_He was pretty sure it wasn't __his because as geeky as he was, even he couldn't contrive such a physically impossible creature from a conscious mind._

_It snorted at him before withdrawing the massive sword. Kyouga Suigetsu let out a small gasp as the transparent cloth fell away from her shoulders exposing her bloodied collarbone. The centaur-creature reared again, its black-scaled armor rattling enchantingly. It thrust its right hand forward and struck the sword into the mirror she held._

_The mirror didn't shatter like it should have. The sword went through but it didn't come out on the other end. They both froze, suddenly unable to move. Silver eyes, green eyes, inched sideways and at the young man sitting over the air._

_Hyourinmaru stared at them disquietingly. His eyes were dead and ablaze with fires that couldn't have possibly been earthly in origin. He tsked, rivulets of crimson starting flow from his lower eyelids. It dripped past the graceful slope of his speckled cheeks before staining his uniform collar red._

_"Not yet."_

-x-

It turned out that awareness was a painful thing.

It felt as though he had been shot down from constellation Seiryu before burning up in the atmosphere. His bones lengthened, muscled divided to fill places where there weren't anything before. He grew tall, his neck a snowy arch as he admired the world from a new perspective. But his hair kept falling across his face because obviously this dimension lacked a useful invention called 'comb'. He tossed his head before nipping at his broad shoulder. His pearly skin was odorless and new, silky to the touch like velvet.

He was in a room.

Okay he could work with that.

The dormitory supervisor probably had the boy brought back to salvage what little reputation was left.

Now...

What was on the bed in the corner was a bit more interesting.

He hadn't thought this dream could morph into a nightmare. He was so sure that maybe this time he could see things through.

And as he kneeled, his forelegs bent, his hind legs straight and strung up tighter than a drum; he touched the thesis of the nightmare and clamped his teeth over the uniform collar.

The gray jacket smelled musty. The shirt sweaty and salty. He wasn't sure if he was able to taste that, he was rarely sure of anything these days. The only thing he knew was that he had to get this boy, this dark-haired soul cutter-shinigami-human being to a safer place.

A palm smacked hard against his teeth and gum, not enough to hurt certainly but enough to offend him. He shook his head hard, his white mane slapping wet against his neck. He pricked his ears, nostrils flaring as he sensed the boy's heart flutter once, twice before stopping. He struggled against his present form, needing something—needing a prehensile _thumb_—to see if he could resuscitate the reluctant idiot. Thankfully, the junior's heart kicked into an overdrive, hammering hard enough for the entire world to hear as he swallowed down the air like a newborn lamb.

"No." He whimpered.

Did Hyourinmaru just whimper?

"You need to get back."

He grabbed the boy's neck—huh he had hands now but all his four feet—not at all interested in what the former dragon had to say for himself.

"Thank you for that input Einstein,"—he was sick of picking up loose thoughts from whatever tedious lessons they went through. He cradled the crumpled form as carefully as he could marveling at the fact that he could hold someone like this, physically, without having to relocate a center of balance. "We have to get out of here."

Hyourinmaru didn't see the things the way he did. His energy supply depleted, he couldn't go around purposely searching for the inconsistencies in the fabric of their reality. His eyes blind with the return of his greater persona, he couldn't see what he could see, oblivion awaiting beneath the thin walls of their dreams.

"I can't."

He hissed low and dangerous.

"You mean you won't."

"Don't you want to see how it ends?" The boy reached out and grabbed a handful of hair and tugged it down. It was snowy-white in color, silken to the touch. It reminded him of...

Right himself

Only he had never let his hair grow this long. Hair grew slowly in the soul society, obviously too slow for people like Yama-jii.

It was disturbing, Hyourinmaru looked almost gleeful.

"You heard her. Kyouga Suigetsu can refract the truth but she can't tell lies."

"Really, and here I was under the impression that you were the perfect gentlemen."

Hyourinmaru grinned slow,

"I am the full moon and she my reflection. I die, and this whole illusion will shatter."

"How poetic."

"It's the only chance you've got"

"You don't know that."

"I think I would, I created this world."

"Yes and great job trying to maintain it by the way." There was a sound of shifting, the soft scratch of skin against steel. He lowered his voice into the barest rumbles, "I need to know; there's something I need to see with my own eyes."

"Ah..." Hyourinmaru uttered in passive understanding.

"I won't let you die." He repeated firmly, phasing through the walls and the window. Quietly, the teen fully submitted under his grasp, face buried somewhere between the hard-soft-pliable scales of the chest plate and the leather straps that held it all together.

"You'll regret it." Hyourinmaru replied simply, consciousness already eluding his grasp. "You'll regret not taking the chance to get out."

"I won't."

Hitsugaya's smile was wan but genuine under the helm.

-x-

There was a quick succession of knocks on her heavily fortified wall.

She was surprised that no explosions had occurred yet.

So in between getting a particularly stubborn stain out from her carpet, she ignored whoever it was on the outside and pondered if she could coax Urahara into lifting the drying blood from the threads.

There was an explosion.

And the knocking stopped.

But the door was gone so...

She frowned, that couldn't be good.

Tying her glossy black hair into a loose ponytail, she raised an eyebrow at the bedraggled teen before her. He grimaced, his pink tongue poking out to flutter over his slick lips. The edges of his uniform were dripping. He was missing his shoes she noticed, but his feet remained immaculate. And so were his hands now she thought about it.

His eyes flared red, briefly and unnatural. She sobered up from her previous mirth as the foreign light in his eyes began to dance like fire.

"Room for one more?"

* * *

**(1)**- To get attention, some girls actually faint—or at least pretend to—on purpose during outdoor assemblies. The chance of this happening increases if say there's particularly a good looking PE teacher that year.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 10/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** unnoticeable Benihime/Hyourinmaru

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

* * *

This was just... great.

He glared at his tea as if it was the source of all his misery at the moment. And it probably was—curse Benihime and her irrational love for traditional tea—couldn't she just serve orange juice or something?

The scarlet-eyed woman reached over and refilled his half-empty—or half-full, he had to think positively after all—cup, thereby ruining a perfectly good game between himself and his watery twin. The steam hit his face and he fell back with a yelp as if scalded, his face reddening enough to hide his numerous freckles. One wayward knee hit the low-lying table. His cup rocked back and forth but remained up right. Benihime was already holding on to hers in a deep, meaningful and passionate relationship he did not care to find out about.

It's always the third one.

Always

So he wasn't that surprised when the third and remaining cup flew backwards to spill down on Zangetsu's front. The hot liquid formed a perfectly circular spot around Zangetsu's crotch.

Hyourinmaru winced, now he knew Zangetsu wasn't human—he still hadn't even figured out if the brooding soul cutter possessed legs.

Zangetsu looked as affronted as he ever got, which wasn't much but there was that nagging voice behind his eyes mentioning a figure that rounded up to hundreds of millions in collateral damage.

The dark-haired teen serenely drowned his train of thought in his tea.

"Now." Benihime started when the steady steam had tapered off and Hyourinmaru stopped smirking and cringing alternatively at the same time. "Since dear Kurosaki-kun is busy training, I would like to discuss our options."

"I thought you were going to go save Kuchiki."

"I would have said..." Benihime started as soon as a plate of snacks and cookies had been passed around. She seemed absolutely unperturbed at the lack of her usual company—servants—and mildly closed the windows when the sun hit the yard at an angle to illuminate the prone bodies. Hyourinmaru grimaced, "that we have a month and that we have to train. But... I suppose that is unnecessary."

"Even if it were," Zangetsu intoned quietly, "I would have lent Ichigo my strength."

"It doesn't make sense though." Hyourinmaru muttered, "If I'm just the power source, Kyouga Suigetsu could have easily manipulated my memories without having to forcefully restrain me. She didn't have to blow her cover but she did..." he frowned, lines forming in the middle of his forehead, and shook his head. "I... never mind."

"Something you need to share with class?"

At first, he had though to announce that Hitsugaya had returned to him, that he had never been gone in the first place. But to say it out loud would be to acknowledge it, and no matter how painful the frustration behind his eyes was building, he knew that it was one piece of information he couldn't afford to divulge.

His head rang as though he had been kicked in the head. There probably had been a mental kick involved. He silently thought about ways to kick back.

"The question now is if Kyouga Suigetsu is not the one controlling this world, then who is?"

The two soul cutters looked at the freckled teen expectantly.

"I told you" Startled at being shoved into the spotlight he stressed, "I don't remember much, I can't answer what you want to know because I have no idea what you're talking about"

"Unlikely" Zangetsu quietly snorted from the side, "he's lying."

True he was lying. His memory wasn't _quite_ as spotty as he made it out to be. But truly he didn't remember what was so great about his current life that his former self had crammed him into a human body.

Plus he was a teenager, it explained practically everything.

"Who died and made you the Central 46?" He snapped, bearing his rounded teeth. "What part of 'I don't remember' didn't you understand? I don't remember why I'm here, hell I don't even remember how I even got here. She wanted me for some reason but I don't remember. Hell, I barely remember my father's face!" he sucked the air down desperately through his nostrils. "You're asking me to do the impossible, am I just supposed to believe that there are worse things in this world than midterms and finals? Am I supposed to believe that's what I am? That this world is nothing more than a dream... I voluntarily became a total loser when I could have... I could have..." he hiccupped, "How the hell can you be so calm?"

"Practice."

"So what's going on? What's happening to me? What... am I?"

"You are what you make yourself to be Hyourinmaru-kun." Strangely he felt irritated by the nickname though it was perfectly within her rights to give him—the younger—a nickname. But at the same time he was reassured by it, it was the only consistency left so far.

"A student?" he questioned hopefully. Benihime poured tea again and this time he took care to tilt his face away from the steam. He fidgeted at the sheer amount spouting out of the small kettle.

"If you want."

"I must have been an idiot," he muttered darkly, "if I was all that powerful, why would I degrade myself into becoming some loser at school? Shouldn't I have been at least the crown prince?"

"I don't disagree with the idiot part but I do know you knew exactly what you were doing when you conjured up this dream."

"To be a masochist?"

"No," Zangetsu said, the rough timber of his voice hurting Hyourinmaru's ears. "You wanted to be on the losing side for once."

"Explains why every team I've been on has lost..."

Benihime placed a forced smile on her face and Zangetsu went on, "you wanted to die."

He froze. He gulped and asked shakily,

"But why?"

Benihime looked slightly appeased; she reached over and gently patted him on the cheek.

"Don't worry about that just now."

-x-

Metal slashed against wood.

And of course the wood snapped and splinters scattered across the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes purely out of reflex, and again, got his ass whooped by one viciously victorious Kurosaki Ichigo.

"This wouldn't be so one-sided if you used your soul cutter" Zangetsu pointed out, face reflected against the black metal of his sword-like form.

"Don't have one... whatever it is." he grunted and got another mental poke in return. He batted it away before standing up and assuming another stance. His blonde opponent frowned and sighed before slinging Zangetsu over his shoulders.

"Look, your stance is too open; at this rate I could just knock you out with my fist."

And this was why he had liked his scaly-monstrously-large form. He never got crap about his stance or form when he was on the offence. He had left all of that up to Hitsugaya once they had been joined. Such boring things shouldn't...

...what...?

Ichigo had phased closer, his index finger pushing against his forehead. He quivered under the tall shadow cast by the other junior.

Crap, he couldn't faint now.

He snapped his jaw shut and Ichigo leaped back hollering bloody murder as he blew on his hand.

"What the hell?!"

"It's not polite the point."

Ichigo stared at him incredulously as though seeing him for the first time. He let his finger bleed and let the blood drip on the dusty ground. Hyourinmaru licked his lips, "I don't have rabies." He offered and the blonde backed away, his other hand itching towards the giant clever at his back.

There was a chortling giggle at the back as Benihime leapt off her seat. She stood, her head slanted sideways as she brought a finger up to her lips coyly,

"I... want to try something."

Hyourinmaru flinched. Benihime laughed airily as he scowled.

"...What?"

"I want to see if Kurosaki-kun could break your hold over this world."

"What...?"

"Think about it. Kyouga Suigetsu specifically mentioned that your powers were tied in directly with this world and maintains it. Severing those bonds would collapse this plane onto itself. We would be... free to go."

"And how... do you suppose we go about doing that?"

"Temper, temper, dear Hyourinmaru. I simply want to see if Kurosaki-kun could perform an initial release with you."

"That's not simple at all. Why can't you do it?"

"I'm monogamous," her eyes were mysterious, matter-of-fact without an ounce of judgment. But the words still unnerved him and struck deep into his guts. He shuddered inwardly at the fleeting face, framed by dark hair and frozen with time. "And we all know that you... are not."

"Not that anyone's ever complained..." Hyourinmaru ventured sarcastically. Again Benihime laughed before stroking his cheeks with her thumb fondly. She pulled away, her thin fingers curling around his hair.

"Of course not, but the fact remains that you are the prime candidate to break this pattern. Besides, I'm not the dreamer now am I?"

"So I am expected to divulge my deepest secret to a blonde-kid who's barely out of his diapers?"

"Hey!"

"Hyourinmaru, the longer we are stuck here, the less chance of us getting out alive."

"What if..."

"Yes...?"

"Never mind." Hyourinmaru's gaze was far away, perhaps into the dimension where their corporeal bodies resided, perhaps piercing beyond that into the realm of the royal family. He licked his lips, the darkly-edged fading with each swipe of his bubblegum-pink tongue. His usually messy hair swept limply behind his ears. A few strands stuck out over his ears pointed towards the back of his head, crafting pseudo-horns from which Benihime could discern the lines between the boy and the dragon. "Let's do it." He cleared his throat, "You know the words?" Hyourinmaru asked hoarsely, an air of defeat around his slumped shoulders. Ichigo swallowed and nodded solemnly, putting his hand squarely on the shorter boy's right shoulder before clenching it tight. There might have been a sniffle as a scarlet blush encircled the peppered ear and spread over the slope of his cheek bones. The dark-haired teen forced his leg apart, braced for something.

Taking in a deep breath the blonde called,

"Sit upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!"

-x-

"_**We should settle here."**_

"_**Good hunting"**_

"_**Good land"**_

"_You are... not a Hollow"_

"_Hollow?"_

"_Father..."_

"_He cannot be killed by conventional means. If Soukyoku equals to one million soul cutters released at once, he possesses one million and one souls to which he will fight and defend his existence."_

"_He's pure now."_

"_Let him stay."_

"_Get out"_

"_Help us"_

"_Hyourinmaru?"_

"_So popular now..."_

"_I choose you..."_

"_No"_

"_NO!"_

"_Bind him, hold him! Do not let him get away."_

"_Stand down, it's not too late."_

"_It's too late for her."_

"_What have you done?"_

"_Let us stay."_

"_I don't have anything to offer but if it means anything take my life, let my family live"_

"_What makes you think you are worth more than the thousand lives that have lived and died here in the past?"_

"_You killed them."_

"_I won't fight him!"_

"_I won't accept him."_

"_I accept"_

"_I'd rather die."_

-x-

Hyourinmaru shrieked.

There was no other word for it good or bad. As soon as the words had been uttered, the other teenager threw his head back and screamed. It was a kind of a noise expected from a horse with its tendons cut. Perhaps from a rabbit whose only cry was the one made during death when a hawk's talons stabbed its soft stomach. It sounded like the despondent cry from a child, someone lost and afraid—_and god Ichigo was just making it worse...!_

The sound seemed to vibrate throughout ever cell of his being and it was all blonde could do to duck his head against the curve of the teen's spine and hold on. His hand was forcefully wrenched away, colorless fragments embedding themselves against his skin. He hollered and yelped, the sudden squall tossing him away just as easily as a breeze might play with a fallen leaf.

A cloud of black softened his landing and he laid there dazed as images began to assault his mind.

'_We have to get out of here.'_

'_How?'_

'_We run.'_

'_Let's go'_

_RukiaOrihimeIchigoByakuyaRenjiKisukeGinSousukeKanameToushiro..._

He spewed technicolored yawn from his mouth and on to the dark blanket. His ears rang as though in grips of a serious motion sickness or a really terrible hangover. The pieces of ice had melted away leaving not a single mark upon his yet unbroken skin. He shook underneath the dark material. Hands steadied him and bade him to tilt his face upward—"look Ichigo."

He saw a giant wing of ice carved with expert precision. The bars of each feather stood out in the artificial sunlight. Snow drift landed on the translucent appendages casting watery shadow upon the earth below. Ichigo stood in awe as the delicate feather patterns faded into a more robust armor of plated scales. But that was where his appreciation promptly ended.

He took in the length of the dragon's upper neck. The patches there were opaque, bumpy and uneven with tiny air bubbles trapped inside. Even as he looked, a scale fell off and shattered into a million and one pieces. The fragments immediately scattered and disappeared from view.

Zangetsu gently brushed the glass like dust from his shoulders. Ichigo watched numbly and breathed into the icy air. Benihime looked discerned but unsurprised.

The dragon's frozen hide was mazed with fissures and rivulets of water that snaked swiftly beneath his scales. The dragon's skull was a mess of crystalline ice. His lower jaw was delicately curved and hanging, unable to fold and close beneath the twisted fangs. His face looked as though it had been bludgeoned off the top of his skull. They could all see the lumpy protrusions lining the ridge of his upper jaws where a crater like shape had formed before closing over.

Benihime held a hand to her mouth.

"That's where..."

The top of his skull was still open, red flames leaping near the top. His sockets too were open, the thin film in place of his eyes burned away by flames. "I wasn't aware..."

If Ichigo had been less tactile, he might have said that Hyourinmaru looked disease and frighteningly close to death. So he omitted the first part and said in a bewildered,

"...That's him?" He coughed up the remaining bile bubbling at his throat and wiped his mouth clean. "He looks like he's going to drop dead any second."

Which hadn't been too far from the truth, but Benihime smacked the back of his head with her feather duster. "What? He does!"

Meanwhile, the brooding soul cutter watched as the comment and actions elicited absolutely no response from the said dragon.

The scales exploded off of the s-line curve of Hyourinmaru's spine. Zangetsu threw himself in front of Ichigo. Benihime calmly raised a sleeve and erected a liquid wall. Ichigo breathed shakily as sheen of glowing film formed over the soul cutter's trench coat. It was not blood as he expected from her but water, more specifically, the melted contents of Hyourinmaru's body.

He rumbled at them in a ruined voice, the bite of bitter salt and gravel where a throaty purr should have been. There were no words, only vibrations and could-have-beens than anything solid or real. Hyourinmaru shook his head, the thin glaze of fresh ice dropping off like loose scales. Wisps of furry tendrils and whole animals formed from the frozen mist. A pack of wolves stared at them with pale blue eyes. Minute deer-like creatures snorted at him. Birds flew above, seeming to phase in and out of Hyourinmaru's neck. There were smoky faces bubbling at the surface of his belly-plates—men and women with bony masks covering their heads. The dragon looked away, seemingly uninterested in the whole procession.

Benihime dragged in a deep breath—"Kusaka..."

A slim figure stood where the dragon's tube-like body scraped against the frost. It wasn't the boy-captain they had been expecting but someone else holding Hitsugaya close with one arm. The man had his hand pressed against Hyourinmaru's translucent skin. Fog formed steadily from where the finger pads made contact with the serpent's inner walls. It expanded and receded as they watched, like an afterimage caught in a loop. The man's mouth opened in warning.

The troubling thing wasn't that he hadn't been able to hear him; it was that Ichigo had been able to understand what he was saying when there were no words.

'Run!'

The ice dragon collapsed on itself, sending the spears of snow crashing down onto the ground.

When the snow settled, Hyourinmaru the boy laid in the middle unmoving.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 11/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none in this chapter

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

.

**phppsmss-** I'm guessing the winter war is where the current arc should be had they not done the whole 'gaiden' scene. I can't tell you exactly when this occurs but it is before the winter war.

* * *

_'How predictable of you...'_

_'Aizen Sousuke'_

_'Dun forget 'bout us'_

_'Ichimaru!'_

_'Temper...'_

Fine mist poured out from his lips as he woke up with a cheek full of icy fragments. He spat the broken shards out, each as cold and as sharp as it had been hanging off the edge his broken jaws. He gagged, fish-bone like needles piercing the soft inside of his mouth. He bit his tongue accidently and let his lower jaw hang loose as saliva trailed together at the corner of his lips before falling towards the ground.

The string of blood specked saliva froze into a rosy icicle at the end of his lips, much like a crooked tusk of an animal. He struck out and slapped the offending protrusion from his face. The ice shattered in to fine slivers of pink snowflakes. It reminded him of Senbonzakura—whoever that was, had been and would be.

White mice scampered across the patterned frost. A silvery fox turned its nose up at his awakening. A dear barked in alarm—harsh and stern—and three transparent cats went to greet the death god and two soul cutters standing where the dry earth had turned into crystallized mud. A shimmering residue was left on Ichigo's pant legs when a feathered tail lightly brushed by. The strawberry-blond teen reached out to touch the feline only to have Zangetsu grab his wrist and shake his grizzled head in a wordless 'no'.

A steely stag beetle waved its stubby antenna at him reproachfully before disappearing. A wolf bayed, plaintive, and dissolved with its pack. A miniature bear sat on its haunches and let out a series of grunts before getting back on all fours. Its blunt head nuzzled the bottom of his feet—being tickled was weird—and melted into whatever it was that was by his left foot.

Benihime knelt down to pick up a pearly snake. It whispered to her haunted words before becoming limp in her hands. A hand bit into his shoulder harder and alternatively painful than it should have been. He was hauled to his feet—his feet, oh right _his_ feet—a hawk screeched in warning and welded itself against his side. The cats hissed, fur rising in colorless smoke, and were swallowed up by the snow.

He would have been paying attention to the strangeness happening all around him had it not been for the odd cutting sensation against his neck and face. That and the fact that someone considerably larger than himself was literally grinding him against the rock face.

"They're still whole, how many?"

"Zangetsu," Benihime said admonishingly, her hands painted with water. "I hardly think this is the time..."

_Like soul cutter like death god_, he gagged—whoops had he said that out loud?

He tried to squirm away from the man in black. Especially from where their bare skin met, the calloused thumb against his bruised collarbone. The area beneath Zangetsu's palm was stained deep maroon. The bony fingers squeezed, earning a series of whines and an attempted head butt. Clear liquid began to run through from between the man's fingers.

"Start talking."

"Tempting." He sang in minute bites between the wheezes. It started to become noticeable where exactly the boy bits ended and the dragon parts began, hard _not_ to when he started to sink into the graveled surface of the rock. "But no, you're really not my type." He eyed the man warily, something akin to panic—fear!—rising up at being pinned by a larger body. Zangetsu brushed a gloved hand over the bridge of his nose; the material unraveled, burnt black at the edges. Hyourinmaru bumped the back of his head against the boulder, his irises bleeding iridescent reds and oranges onto the whites. He bit his lips and drew blood from them. The fat ruby droplets flowed down his chin and dripped onto the taller soul cutter's remaining hand.

His blood immediately froze, fell off and rolled across the dirt glimmering like the most perfect gem known to mankind. He kicked instinctively, feet flailing in midair and hitting nothing, simply going through the other's stomach. He retracted them in shock, feeling as though he had been dumped in a vat of boiling water. A string of rashes began to make their way up where the skin of his thighs had been exposed through the cheap polyester.

"Zangetsu." Zangetsu looked up to become face to face with a five foot two Benihime. She slammed the hilt of her soul cutter into his mouth and parried him backwards. Hyourinmaru was dropped on his butt, half-melded into the rock face as Ichigo ran forward to pull him out.

"Hey, you okay?" asked the concerned blonde.

"I'm fine."

Thieves with their hands down someone's purse probably had more success proclaiming their innocence.

So his knees shook like vibrators without an off switch—that was perfectly normal—he was probably experiencing shock or something equally traumatic. He peered curiously at the substitute death god in between keeping his teeth still. "Why are you...?"

"Stay away from him." a black cloud descended upon Ichigo and shrouded him in dark. Around his shoulders appeared a cloak that reached up to his neck and down his ankles.

"Like I said, not interested," Hyourinmaru replied automatically the same time Ichigo managed to twist his features into a constipated scowl.

Benihime reached between them with a disgruntled look on her pretty face as she snagged the swarthy material between her fingers and pinched it hard. It dissipated as quietly as it had appeared and restored itself as a cleaver-sword across Ichigo's spine. Hyourinmaru sighed and leaned unsteadily against the cracked boulder.

_'If you surrender now...'_

_His grin widened like a deep slit across his face._

_'No'_

"Let's never do that again please?"

-

-

The ground seemed to glow wherever Hyourinmaru tread. Though the shop belonged to her, for the first time she felt lost within its walls, something that had never happened before. Not even when she first bought the dumpy little building for a tenth of the price it was.

"So he's really a Soul Cutter then?" asked Ichigo tentatively.

"What else could he be?"

"What were those... other things? The cats and the fox and those..."

"They were Hyourinmaru." Zangetsu said, his murky form appearing from on top of Ichigo's shoulders. "Hyourinmaru is not one but of many. All the souls you have seen there, the ones you don't see are what makes up the creature we know as Hyourinmaru."

"I don't understand."

"Soul cutters" Benihime started calmly, "are sentient beings that form when powerful spirits grow aware of themselves. Hyourinmaru's formation was unusual in that he started as one or two minor souls, like an animal equivalent of pluses really, getting stuck in a spiritual tar pit. Over time, their distress calls became a beacon to all sorts of things. It became a deathtrap for anything that wandered close, humans, souls, animals, death gods, other soul cutters, Hollows..."

"We don't know when he came into awareness but we do know for a fact that he has swallowed more than his share of pluses who sought _sanctuary_ in his stomach. There are no worse fates." Zangetsu said in mild distaste, "at least as a Hollow they could have had the chance to experience afterlife. Now they're doomed to be assimilated into a soul cutter that does not even act like one. The awareness you see perceive from him is not of a singular entity but of many. He is closer to a Hollow in that respect."

"Does it matter to anyone that I'm right here? Awake? Coherent?" Hyourinmaru coughed mulishly. He was obviously ignored in sight of his stature—or the lack of. "Right, carry on. Back-stabbing seems to be a recurrent theme lately..." he added in a half-disguised threat. "Don't make me have to _eat_ you." Zangetsu carefully schooled his face into one of quiet indifference. But he remained silent; perhaps he had revealed more than he should have.

Hyourinmaru is a soul cutter—riiiiight.

See what else could a four foot ten point enter-decimals-here Hyourinmaru be indeed. But then there was that saying about the meek inheriting the world and the strawberry blonde thought it wasn't such a farfetched idea after all.

"So what's happening now?"

"We think we're stuck in his mind." Zangetsu's tone revealed what the stoic soul cutter would not say himself. Hyourinmaru glared drowsily, his forehead creasing.

"I'm sorry, were you expecting me to play out some dirty fantasy of yours? Unlike you I don't _need_ to fantasize about the fairer sex."

That was definitely Hyourinmaru-the-dragon. While the prospects were thrilling, two testosterone-fueled males butting heads in a closed environment was never a good thing. Just look what happened the last time anyone had Hyourinmaru cornered against a rock and a hard place. Maybe she could set up a tourist attraction themed 'winter wonderland'. Heavens knew that the permafrost wasn't going to disappear without drastic means.

She hit the two on the head with her fan.

"That's enough out of both of you."

Ichigo looked slightly red.

"That's... too much information."

Hyourinmaru rounded on him fiercely,

"We need to go; we need to find the others. You wanted to save Rukia."

Benihime didn't hesitate this time,

"How many?"

"Nine," he replied, nails biting into the softer skin on his inner elbow. "There are, will be nine."

Benihime nodded and Zangetsu spoke up briefly,

"Are the rest even alive Hyourinmaru?"

"Of course they're alive." Hyourinmaru snapped then faltered, "They're alive... they've always been alive..." he suddenly became aware of the eyes on him. He stood up, his knees colliding with the tea table and sending a corner into Zangetsu's stomach.

He cringed—it was an accident!_noitwasn't_

"I'll get more tea."

-

-

Hyourinmaru breathed in relief when no one bothered to follow him into the kitchen.

He didn't blame them exactly, even though he knew it was normal. He couldn't quite grasp the idea that the walls should look like that. And with no physical wall to lean on for a material creature like him, he sat down on the floor where the polished wood gleamed golden brown with mahogany whorls etched upon its surface.

He's always wondered how a piece of lumber could be cut that it would retain the age rings.

**'You're hiding'**

'Why yes I am kettle, now quiet I'm trying to think'

It was only the trauma of the past hour that he wasn't bitching at the voice in his head. Unlike when he had passed out... he remembered. He remembered how much it hurt to have himself—his entire self—released—and by a stranger no less—in one go. He figured he could file a complaint at some obscure bureau of spiritual affairs.

...If he could find it that is...

**'It was very insensitive of them to give you back your memories without permission wasn't it?'**

'Very'

Hyourinmaru agreed, ignoring the stinging sarcasm as the space around him grew smaller and smaller.

_'...Gaya I don't know what to do.'_

_'Let me help you'_

_A bankai._

_She was more beautiful than he remembered. So pretty and delicate that he almost forgot about the deadly artifact in her hands, her essence if you will, cast into a shape of an intricate mirror that reflected nothing and everything upon its shallow surface. In his image he saw too many faces, half formed bounced off of his silver edge. He saw memories that were not his, memories that were his but altered, buried, given away. _

_He never saw himself._

_It's an illusion; it's the trick of the eye!_

_But it didn't stop it from being right._

No—he thought as he boiled the water. Even at a distance he could feel the heat from the propane born flames. The fire leaped blue and he remembered how the last ones he had seen were bright orange shocked with edges of white. He remembers how the white and orange had blended to form a peachy-yellow and furrowed against his face as though a farmer might spread seeds and grow crop on it.

He politely stifled the bile crawling up his throat.

_Not the time, not the time_—he breathed.

'Not right now, not right now...'

**'No, not right now.'**

His duel mind separated into two distinct compartments. But already he saw his toys mixing with some others from the different side. His books were mingling with boring post modernism fantasy he—_he_—liked to read and he wondered if given enough chance, the outcast junior with one too many freckles on his face would grow into him. It was a strange thought; it certainly made head hunting easier of course but...

'He's still here; don't talk about him like that.'

Excuse me?—He expected better from himself, belittling a perfectly valid worry as he poked at the flavor of the month calendar.

Huh, the calendar was still there which implied a wall must have been resurrected...

Sure enough, a spot of faded wall paper about a foot in diameter behind the calendar. He touched it, watched it crumble to dust with skeptical eyes thinking that Hollywood special effects were way better.

He carried the tray of tea out into the guest parlor.

-

-

"It's the little things you know, if I focus hard enough I can even sorta feel what he's doing."

"Why Kurosaki-kun," at that moment Ichigo could have sworn there were tiny red horns poking out the side of her skull. "You perv, I didn't know you had it in you" there was a vague impression of pride in her voice. If anything it mortified him even further.

"It's not like that! I'm not gay!" Ichigo sputtered, flushing scarlet and turning one accusatory finger towards her.

She snapped her fan shut before shutting it and fluttered its edge gently across the bridge of her nose.

"Oh I don't judge" she said happily. "You two are bonding."

Ichigo stared back at her incredulous.

"Did you not get my note about being straight?"

"Your lack of sexuality doesn't mean a thing, you two are bonding."

"Dammit! I'm not gay!"

She was doing that evil laughter thing again. Her face slightly raised, her fan doing nothing to hide her obvious delight. Her eyebrow arched as she settled into a series of giggles and raised a tea cup in mock blessing.

A hand swiftly plucked the porcelain cup away from Benihime's fingers

"What did you put in this tea? Zangetsu looks happy."

The said soul cutter was napping sitting up. The grim look on his face had smoothed into one of calm and Benihime looked at him speculatively with purely platonic interest. And she turned towards the dark-haired boy and protested, her lower lips quivering as it drew into a pout.

"My shop, my rules."

Hyourinmaru squinted,

"My energy, my world, my rules."

To this she conceded with a sigh though she looked ridiculously pleased.

"And Kurosaki, if you wanted to come out to someone, telling Benihime is not the way to go."


	12. Chapter 12

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 12/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** implied Benihime/Hyourinmaru

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

* * *

As soon as the decision had been made to continue with their plans for Soul Society, Hyourinmaru quit tea and began sucking down black coffee like it was made of water.

Benihime made this slight choking noise at the blasphemy and had an annoyed tick stuck to the corner of her lips as she made preparations. Hyourinmaru blithely ignored her for the moment—and Zangetsu but that had been given—and alternated getting intimate with the porcelain throne in the room around the back and the kettle.

Ichigo has no idea when the boy-dragon-soul cutter had the time to make the trip to a supermarket in their crumbling world but was vaguely impressed as he produced emergency rations for their trip.

In revenge, Benihime gave the dark-haired soul cutter a pink, bunny eared backpack. Ichigo received a standard hiking gear and Zangetsu disappeared before she could force an oversized purse on him. Ichigo quietly swore at his partner but for once he did not even feel the flitting noise of the stoic soul cutter swishing around in his head.

Benihime went down to her resized training grounds to set up a portal. Hyourinmaru took the opportunity to pull the strawberry-blonde aside in between trying to stuff his bag full of coffee-filled thermos. The rabbit's bright-eyed face bulged grossly as Ichigo stood nonplussed, unwilling to carry his bag until the portal was actually open.

Hyourinmaru sat down on the floor, sipping at yet another cup of coffee. Ichigo noticed that the other junior looked tired and felt guilt when he saw fresh bandaging beneath the wrinkled, grey shirt. He remembered the boy bouncing back like a rubber band the first time they really talked to each other. He remembered how the twisted ankle reset itself and faded into faint mottling. But now he saw that one wrist was still wrapped tight with yellowing bandages—Hyourinmaru wasn't healing.

"What is it?"

"I won't remember this when I switch back..." he made a vague motion with his hand.

"...and..."

"You'll need my help to get out and I'm no use without my memories." Hyourinmaru said matter-of-factly, dumping the rest of the cup's contents down his narrow throat. The freckled teen's hand is shaking; Ichigo was pretty sure if the cup had been made of something a bit more fragile, it would have crumpled or worse shattered.

"...so..."

"Don't let me fall asleep." There was a wry twist to his lips, "please."

-

-

Benihime led the duo to a tall doorway with paper rectangles covering every inch of its surface. It looked like abstract art—Hyourinmaru shook his head as Benihime activated the backdoor to their dimension of origin.

"No remember," she said admonishingly, "You must get to the other side. I'm sure a straight line is simple for even you to follow Hyourinmaru. If you stay in there for longer than four minutes, you will be stuck forever."

"Wait, wait," Ichigo waved his hand, "You're not coming with us?" Benihime blinked and said simply,

"I can't"

"Why not?"

"I was exiled from the Soul Society for carrying on an adulterous affair with a nobleman of all things—can you imagine? I can no longer enter the spiritual dimension." Her soul cutter turned into a fan again, large, plumed with black lilies lacquered on the crimson barbs.

"But you said this world belonged to..."

"I am well aware of what we have discussed Kurosaki-kun but this world is more or less derived from Hyourinmaru's memories. What does not exist in his mind," she shook her head, "simply cannot exist."

"And if I could make it so that you could go through..."

"You can't, you can barely protect yourself from bullies remember?" Benihime quipped promptly.

"I won't know if I don't try... and it would have been more trouble than they were worth had I attacked them in the first place anyways."

Benihime looked at Hyourinmaru thoughtfully and palmed his cheek with one hand. He seemed taller somehow, a little more confident with himself.

"When did you get so smart Hyourin-chan?"

"Told you not to call me that...!"

"Ah but you used to love it remember. Especially in the hot springs, you remember the hot springs don't you?"

She fluttered her eyes coyly and laughed softly as the ice-type soul cutter's face took on a shade not wholly unlike her eye color.

-

-

"Where... are we...?"

The first thing he saw as he emerged was the deep green sea of Benihime's kimono. The hem of the cloth was speckled with minty ginkgo leaves. Even with the encroaching battle—_battle? Really?_—it seemed, the scarlet-eyed woman had no thoughts on changing her attire to something more practical. He shook his head, feeling dazed and vaguely sick as a curveball of memories struck him straight in the space between his clouded eyes.

Benihime turned, silk billowing around her thin ankles as she did a brief curtsy.

"Welcome back to Soul Society. Our next stop, the Shiba household, which should have been around here somewhere..."

They looked around finding nothing but a stretch of grass-pocked dry lands as far as their eyes could see. Minutes later, the two boys were scrambling up the crumbling hills of earth while Benihime awaited their report under a vine-print parasol. Ichigo called out to the two other shinigami, his orange head bobbing against the blue skyline as he slid down the opposite side of the hill. Patiently, Benihime climbed towards where the junior was, Hyourinmaru in quick pursuit as he slipped over a patch of spiky grass. He heard his stomach growl and blushed—even though there was no one within hearing distance—and wondered how long they would last without food.

There were giant arms crossed over each other on the other side, the left one engraved boldly with the Shiba emblem. He winced as tumbleweed blew past them and a crack grew audibly from the right arm's fourth knuckle to its wrists. Benihime seemed completely unperturbed as she looked around, raising her eyes when the dust rose once more and settled, revealing nothing else before their eyes.

There was no grand house, only a small plot of land with spiky grass lining the rows of dirt. Even then it seemed abandoned, accompanied only by a rundown cart with a broken wheel.

Ichigo knelt down,

"Well I'm starving. Do we have any food left?"

"Well if certain people hadn't eaten it all while the portal was opening..."

Hyourinmaru stretched out his hand to touch the stiff leaves. The spiky greenery seemed to shiver at his touch and out of curiosity; he wrapped his fingers firmly around its base and tugged it free of the earth.

"...they're... pineapples."

Or he thought they were pineapples.

The strange plants were miniatures of their earthly counterparts. Each pineapple was no bigger than an apple and had a thicker skin. Even Zangetsu, with his enormous blade, had trouble cutting through the armored peel. Knowing that food was hard to come by within the Soul Society, the three death gods picked up a rotund fruit and began to eat.

And as they feasted upon the fruit, the trio plotted out their next course of action. Obviously, Kukaku's cannon was out of the question seeing as how no one had inhabited the area for quite some time. It was sheer luck in the first place that they were able to find something in the middle of nowhere to quench their thirst and quell their hunger.

Benihime looked at the abandoned cart speculatively...

...then looked at the two boys gorging themselves.

Hyourinmaru scowled, mirroring Ichigo's default face.

"No, just no."

-

-

After fixing the cart with Benihime's shape-shifting soul cutter, the three shinigami had decided to stock up on pineapple look-alikes and head for Seireitei on foot seeing as there was no other option. Thus, the crimson eyed woman sat balancing on top of the pile of fruit while the dark-haired teen pulled the cart and the fairer one pushed it.

"I'm pretty sure," Hyourinmaru huffed as he strained for the last vestiges of strength in his leg tendons. "That this is illegal in most first world countries."

"Nonsense." Benihime tutted airily, neatly peeling the ambiguous fruit. She sliced the pale yellow flesh and delicately gnawed at it, in full view, of everyone who was watching, which included the two juniors laboring under the sun. "There is no rule that extends to encompass the rights of soul cutters and substitute death gods. In fact, I believe that the..." Ichigo groaned, loudly and she rapped the cart. "Oh come on now, you're two young, virile males. You can't possibly be tired after only thirty-six miles." Gritting out a hoarse, 'Yes we _can_!' the orange-haired teen collapsed, barely missing getting run over by the wooden wheels. Hyourinmaru followed soon after panting and wiping his face on the back of his hand.

Benihime sighed in disappointment,

"They simply don't make men like they used to." She extended a hand and grabbed Ichigo's enormous soul cutter from his back. "Zangetsu dear, it wouldn't kill you to help us out a little." The words were said in good cheer that betrayed none of the steely tone beneath. But apparently the stoic soul cutter was well versed in the art of self-preservation. He appeared like a disgruntled, dark ghost, wordlessly holding the ends of the ropes as Benihime reined it around his skinny frame.

When the two teens were loaded up into the cart, Zangetsu started, rushing like the shadow of a giant bird over the land. The wind whipped by and Hyourinmaru smiled smugly at the soul-cutter-turned-cart-horse before indulging himself in another pineapple. Ichigo simply seemed relieved that he wouldn't be pulling the cart any time soon and Benihime was busy pointing out nonexistent landmarks that decorated the outskirts of Soul Society.

When they reached the borders of the western 80th district, Zangetsu disappeared without a preamble leaving his sealed form to clang unceremoniously to the ground. Ichigo grabbed the long hilt and hung the sword behind his back. Hyourinmaru jumped out trying to rearrange his hair into something presentable to human eyes. Benihime remained immaculate as always, still. On. The. Cart.

They stared at her, she stared back expectantly. They sighed, she smirked, and Hyourinmaru took the front. Ichigo began to push from the back.

-

-

Traveling through the outer rings of Rukongai was a grim business. Everywhere they set their eyes on was poverty, hunger, sickness, and pain. Even Benihime, former resident of the Soul Society and well versed in the life in the slums since during the earlier days of its creation, turned her face away and hid the startlingly green patterns of her kimono against the wooden cart. People looked out at them windows—perhaps not people, animals with starving eyes—sending fits of shivers down the two teenagers' spines. Ichigo had done this before, Ichigo had not. It had been a small mercy that Urahara had the right connections to spare him the perfect inversion between the material world and the spiritual world. And now, as they passed from eighty to the high seventies, they saw everything.

It made Hyourinmaru's head spin and his stomach swirl. His tongue felt fat and slippery in his mouth—too big and he let it hang out—capture all the blood-scented air molecules and sucked it back in gasping, choking. It was nausea that clenched around his stomach as he walked amongst the dead in a small alley where a section of a house has fallen over, blood lust that hung over him when he saw a boy bawling his head off while cradling a chipped bowl before his chest. He wondered if he cut him just above the fluttering heart, would he bleed into the bowl.

With a shout Ichigo warded a stranger off by flashing Zangetsu. Benihime once again looked straight ahead with a stiff smile, her nostrils flaring. She looked strained again; he wanted to run his fingers through her hair in an attempt to alleviate the pain. But he didn't, he hadn't done such a thing in decades—comforting someone—other than brief affections towards his shinigami.

_His shinigami_

A gang arrived to surround them near the exit towards the seventy-seventh district, all big, ugly, scarred with various sharp objects held in their hands. The leader of the thugs spat at their feet and asked for the cart, the few pineapples that were left, and Benihime. Despite being inquired by a bunch of thieves, Benihime preened under the attention

They eyed the three with a sort of a maniac glee. Ichigo pulled his soul cutter off of his back and unwrapped it from the white cloth trailing from its hilt, ready to fight. Hyourinmaru tried to hold him back—there wasn't enough time, they were coming, _they needed to go_—but Ichigo shook free of his grip and leapt forward, swinging the massive cleaver as he fought to open up a path towards Seireitei.

He was exhausted and he could feel his consciousness slip away like grains of sand through his hand.

**'Let me...'**

The thought sobered him quicker than a cold shower could ever accomplish. He waded through the maze of flesh, occasionally resorting to kicking and biting before he came up pressed against Benihime's back on the cart. People were thrown—courtesy of Kurosaki Ichigo—into the air and he breathed, trying to calm himself, trying to remember a spell that just wouldn't come to him.

He had to have the shittiest survival skills ever born to anyone in the history of survival skills. It wasn't as though he was asking for much—just let him save himself for once without trying to help someone else?

Screw it, he didn't need a spell.

He froze their fingers off one by one whenever they dared touching the worn cart.

Their hands just snapped off whenever they dared to try and touch Benihime.

People milled around, onlookers from the outside looking in. scavengers, waiting for a chance to tear in when the trio grew too tired to move. Brutes, working in rotation to bring them down. This was a waste of time he thought, another maniac slaughter in outings with Ichigo. The strawberry blonde would take care of it, but it was taking too long.

He felt like a little boy after a long hike, waiting for someone to pick him up in their arms to carry him. Maybe he was waiting for...

Whoever he was waiting for, he wasn't sure if he could last.

He _knew_ he couldn't last.

As if sensing his thoughts, Benihime stood up, the dark silk fluttering around her ankles. In her hand was a katana, she smiled and let her reiatsu free.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 13/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** implied Benihime/Hyourinmaru

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

* * *

As if sensing his thoughts, Benihime stood up, the dark silk fluttering around her ankles. In her hand was a katana, she smiled and let her reiatsu free.

-

-

His vision went perfectly white for 2.3 seconds.

In that moment he was able to fall backwards, dislocate a shoulder, and curl up on himself like a hibernating animal before anyone noticed that he was no longer standing next to Benihime. It was mindboggling and did absolutely nothing for his already low self-esteem, if he had any left to begin with that is.

He rocked back and forth favoring his left shoulder as animalistic yelps of pain left his lips. Black spots were mottling his view of the perfectly white world and Benihime—too soft and gentle to be anyone else—rolled him over, fingers nimbly pinching all the pressure points until she found one that numbed entire his left side. With a few quick words to Kurosaki Ichigo—who from the sense of things was reluctant to come near him at all—she opened the top of the shinigami garb and pillowed it under his right ear.

Someone grabbed a hold of his left arm. Probably Ichigo since his shoulder hadn't been wrenched back into place yet and... _Holy...!_ An outraged snarl tore itself out of his mouth. He butted away Ichigo's hands and sank his nails into his aching left arm as though to tear it off. He had never dealt well with pain but hey—on the bright side, at least he was fully coherent now and awake.

He still couldn't see anything and the words he heard weren't anywhere near a spoken language. He cringed slightly, tucking his knees close to his stomach and wrapping his good arm around them. He shook and waved away the others' concern—he didn't _need_ help, really.

'**Really'**

He would be fine; he wouldn't have to go with this. Benihime already had her hands full keeping the story straight with an amnesiac substitute shinigami in tow; she had no time to waste on an idiot like him. A reluctant child who refused to help a person in need—they didn't need him; they would be fine without him. He would slip up somehow and make a mistake, somehow he could make the precarious situation worse and let the girl, what's her name Rukia, be killed.

'**You're doing it again'**

'They don't have time, her execution will be moved up by days if not weeks.'

'**They need help'**

'Because they want to get out of here you idiot.'

'I don't want to see her dying, I can't...'

'**Would you let another die for your indecisiveness...?'**

'Don't say that.'

'**Hn...'**

Benihime was staring at him, he felt her eyes piercing, positively accusing. The panic must have shown on his face because she turned away from Kurosaki and the ruins of the alleys and was staring at him still murmuring half-forgotten promises to himself. Maybe he could find out if he could fly...? It would certainly make him feel better knowing that he wasn't completely useless. He couldn't see him, her, he couldn't see them. He could not see a single strand of dark lashes or the pretty green leaves on the hem of her kimono. He didn't want to remember anymore. He could be happy, ignorant, he could be happy as a nobody.

'**Would you? Would you really be happy?'**

'_He's here...'_

'**You said you would help.'**

'_This mist... is unnatural'_

'_It is the indication of his initial seal'_

'Only because...'

'**Would you be happy, stuck in a helpless body, watching Hollows, yourself, kill others one by one?'**

'Shut up.'

'**...Toushiro?'**

'I...'

'**Even Kurosaki has summoned Zangetsu. Why won't you call me?'**

'**Am I so terrifying?'**

A sense of déjà vu washed over him as a hand tapped his shoulder. He did not look back. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist himself if he did. He raised his mental shields, throwing a barrier of ice against the opaque wall between him and his shinigami, soul cutter, fairy godmother, whatever.

'You're too damn clingy.'

The voice laughed—in his face, rather back of his mind—but it was pleasant to listen to and he didn't really mind.

'**I'm supposed to protect you.'**

'I don't need protection.'

It was in his head was quiet after that. But the silence had its own voice and formulated a picture in his mind. Silent swish drew a plumed tail, slight stretching carved muscle and flesh over bone, chimes cast cloven, silver hooves, and the sense of something being alive beyond the barrier sketched the determined face for him.

'**Everyone needs help sometimes...'**

'_It's too late'_

-

-

Zangetsu got the pulling duty again.

The dark-haired soul cutter was hardly pleased but it seemed perfectly reasonable when one of his passengers was a _child_ intent on staring a hole through his head.

"_You're doing it again."_

Hyourinmaru jumped.

"I... what?"

Benihime gave him a doleful glance that roughly translated into a universal 'you're-an-idiot'.

"That's not going to win you any favors with him." She tilted her head slightly towards where the black-garbed soul cutter toiled under the sun. Not that Hyourinmaru could actually see her doing it but it was interesting how the spirit particles warped according to her movements. Zangetsu had a similar structure, the light growing dim around the glowing edges where he was showing signs of strain. Endurance indeed and he smiled toothily, reaching out to poke Ichigo with a mental finger.

Both Zangetsu and Ichigo startled, the cart just rocking enough for Hyourinmaru to reconsider the 'no-touching' game.

He sat down by Benihime's side, graciously accepting the female soul cutter's touch as he bit into the pineapple-fruit.

No one had bothered them after the fiasco in the 77th district. Now they were nearing the sixties and were making good time. The scenery had improved as well. The rank odor of sweat and rot had faded until Hyourinmaru could thrust his face into the air without fearing suffocation.

"The only one I want favors from is you."

In front of him, Ichigo groaned. Putting on a faux smile on his face he turned and flicked the strawberry-blonde playfully on the calves.

"You're just jealous."

There was a faint but definitely derisive snort from the front.

"My god, how did you survive school?"

Huh, that was a good question and honestly he didn't know. He certainly wasn't this cheeky in school. Otherwise he would have died on the first day or would have been declared a hero... and since when do soul cutter-dragons go to school?

'**Since you've turned into a shinigami'**

"Ichigo." Zangetsu breathed softly and the cart gently rolled to a stop. Hyourinmaru, despite having the wrong name, looked up. Benihime made a slight, impressed noise from beside him as she stretched her neck. She and Hyourinmaru were just tall enough to see over the wooden sides of the cart.

"My, my, what ever shall we do?"

A blockade—didn't look as though it would part for them.

Hyourinmaru frowned—"we go through them."

'**Very tactful'**

"Thanks."

That earned him an odd look.

The man in front of the human-shinigami barricade raised his hand. All fell silent and he felt compelled to yawn. Zangetsu shrouded Ichigo's shoulders and they began to charge as did the leader of the other faction.

"So..." Benihime started as she set a dainty foot down on the dusty ground. "A friendly wager on how long it takes for them to get through?"

"I don't take rigged bets."

He stared—turned his eyes in the general direction of—at Ichigo's retreating back. The substitute shinigami looked very different from his glum counterpart. Instead of a single, bright beacon, Ichigo seemed to be covered in webs of small capillaries that stretched just below the skin. The intricate lines pumped fire through the boy's body feeding him, fueling him, and he couldn't help but think how hungry it was and how long it had been since he had been sent out to dispatch a congregation—A herd? A crowd? A gaggle?—of bone-masked hollows.

_Ichigo froze, suddenly unable to strike. _

_Renji's malicious grin widened into a slit across the bottom half of his face. Stretching his arms upwards, the redhead brought Zabimaru's barbed blade down across the strawberry-blonde's chest._

Hyourinmaru's mouth dropped open, "...shit."

"Kurosaki-kun!" Benihime flicked her fan open as to perform an initial release. Instantly, unnamed shinigami were at her side, their lips already forming a basic binding seal that became devastating when used in succession.

Hyourinmaru thrust a palm against the back of the closest death god, light blue energy flowing from his fingertips. The nondescript young woman gasped, her blank eyes glowing wine red for one second as everything around her, from her spiritual energy to the limbs of those closest to her, became encased in ice. The former soul cutter sputtered before pulling his hand back. He swiftly danced out of the way as a short rat-faced shinigami tried to stick him with a spear. The cart was destroyed judging from the dull snap of wood. Now he was angry, he hadn't been planning on walking all the way to the 13 divisions without some mode of transport. He struck the man's temple with an open fist and watched mirthlessly as he evaporated.

A shadow loomed over him, bulky and dark.

"Sorry, don't take it personally." An elbow to his stomach—when had he gotten this weak?—and a palm to his face that pushed painfully against his gums. He was thrown against the ground, his skull hitting violently against the earth as he tried to assemble some form of coherency. Renji struck again and this time he was shoved face first into the dirt. His tongue rolled out, scraping against the ground as a foot fell upon his spine and began to press down. He snarled indignantly. He thought he saw globes of light flicker, not with his eyes, not with his mind but something more basic inured within him. Something only he and those like him could relate to.

_Monkey, rat, mice, cricket, stoat...!_

"_Who is that?"_

"_She found him out in the tundra."_

"_He's beautiful..."_

His vision never returned, not since...

It didn't matter anymore. His body convulsed under the division lieutenant's grip, mouth stretching open for oxygen but not getting enough. His thoughts, his mind, shouldn't he be the god of the realm, the immortal that descended upon the skies? His claws—fingers—brushed against the redhead's face.

"Damned ursine."

His struggles quieted, his freckles becoming prominent on his paling skin. The redhead picked him up easily by the collar. His head rolled loosely on his neck, bearing his mottled throat once before drooping. He breathed weakly, the flow of air becoming mute whistles between his teeth. The form of the sixth division's lieutenant sneered at the soul in his hand, his face close enough to brush against Hyourinmaru's own. The soul cutter-turned-human felt the furry coarseness caress his cheeks and struggled anew, abet weakly as Renji raised his other hand—the one clutching Zabimaru.

Zabimaru wasn't real, he told himself as he was settled onto his feet, the hand still enclosed around his collar. He felt nothing from the bits of steel he normally would have had the spirit been alive and active. So in the foregone conclusion, the next course of action shouldn't hurt... too much.

Who was he kidding; he couldn't even heal a broken wrist. He was as blind as a bat—which, it turned out they weren't as quite as blind as most people thought—and what sensory left to him could barely differentiate between person A and person B.

That would have been a great time to spontaneously sprout frozen wings but since when had life been kind to him? Luck had never baptized him in her embrace and now he was going to die—seriously injured—just because... just because...

He swayed as the muscles gripped around his neck suddenly tightened. He closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable blow.

An irate snort and hoof beats of animal yet unidentified.

'Go away don't come, don't come...'

'_Run Toushiro...'_

-

-

He sucked in a deep breath, choking as blood squirted into his mouth and went down the wrong way. Abarai Renji's face was frozen in an peculiar and thoughtful expression, the strong fingers still curled in his collar. Then he swayed and fell against Hyourinmaru, impaling himself further and trapping the freckled boy beneath his body. Hyourinmaru let go of the—his, really?—katana for the time being and squirmed out from beneath the death embrace. At last when his right foot was freed from under the redhead's slick belly, he stared and stared and stared.

He had a katana—awesome or maybe not, where did it come from?

He had just killed someone with it.

It was still stuck in that someone.

He thought briefly about how he would need a lever of some kind to flip the tattooed corpse over when a bubble of helpless laughter escaped him.

He had just nearly died.

And he had never felt safer.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 14/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

* * *

He wondered if it was wrong to feel wholly innocent as Ichigo ran over to flip the tattooed redhead onto his back. The blonde teen pressed an open hand to his face when he saw the foggy eyes and slack mouth. His lips pulled into a pained grimace as he other hand grappled with Renji's limp fingers. He let out a string of raw gasps, his shoulders shaking.

Hyourinmaru didn't know what to say or if there was anything to be said.

He felt no regrets—how strange.

He didn't feel anything and the mild satisfaction that had come with coiled to a smoky whisper. Something held him from the back, not Benihime—at least not yet—and he started suddenly as if to tear himself away from the odd embrace. Ichigo's head snapped back up, his eyes in the shadows glinting yellow and black at him.

He was reminded of bees and how he was allergic to them.

He could feel the anger wafting off the other boy in waves—was he allergic to him too?

And a fist to his face—a familiar territory—that he should have seen coming. Ichigo immediately shoved him into the dirt. Old fears surfaced and he scrambled backwards. The seniors usually got him the guts because it left less of a mark. He didn't think Ichigo cared very much however and was proven right when the strawberry-blonde pounced on the dark-haired junior and began to beat the living shit out of him.

Fighting in a way only children could, Toushiro dug his teeth into the taller teen's bicep and held on. Ichigo, in retaliation slammed the boy's head against the ground until he pulled free. Both were panting in exhaustion by the time Benihime separated them with a single sweep of her fan.

"You killed him!" Ichigo snarled, trying to get at the freckled teen.

"He was going to kill _me_!"

Well he wasn't actually sure but what else was he to assume when he was strangled awake? The Easter Bunny?

"You didn't have to kill him!"

"So I should have just knelt down and let him chop my head off?!"

"Yes you should have!" with a final roar the blonde tackled his darker counterpart and punched him in the face. Hyourinmaru yelped—there might have been a broken nose involved—and struggled free from the tangle of limbs. Like a scalded dog—how embarrassing—he hid behind Benihime's back using the patterned cloth as a tenuous shield. Neither the scarlet-eyed woman nor the rogue death god was very much impressed with this display.

"Boys, boys..." Benihime sighed, prying the sleeve of her kimono away from Hyourinmaru's grasp.

"I'm trying to do the right thing!" He shouted, scrambling to get away.

What right thing—he wondered? What _defined_ right from wrong in this place?

He hugged the dirt when Ichigo straddled his back and put him in a headlock.

"The right thing? Fuck, killing people is not the right thing!"

"You idiot!" He choked out, "Don't you get it!? They're not real!"

Except they were, just not in a way he, Ichigo nor Benihime thought they were.

"You don't know that!"

They were... the earth, the extension of this place, a fence that guarded the pot of gold at a rainbow's end.

Not exactly the time for pondering the mysteries of his universe.

"Yes I do!"

"No you DON'T!"

"Enough!"

They froze, limbs stiff and locked into position. Ichigo's grip loosened and Hyourinmaru breathed easier. He rolled his eyes sideways trying to get a glimpse of the scarlet-eyed woman. "Enough," she breathed, her voice softer, quieter. But it hadn't been anger he had just heard then, not all of it at least. Hyourinmaru laid still, air flowing freely in and out of his mouth. Ichigo tumbled off his narrow back.

He shivered, he wasn't alone.

-x-

"At least you're not crying this time." Benihime said helpfully, handing his katana back to him. It was heavy—it was real steel sword—and he dropped it, prompting a sigh and a patronizing snort from the periphery beyond sight. Then he reminded himself that at least he wouldn't have to lug around a huge meat-cleaver on his back. "This is getting out of hand." She remarked dryly as he picked it back up trying to figure out how to transport it without shredding himself on its blade. "I don't suppose if I knock you out, you will come back as yourself."

"I don't think it quite works that way." He answered nervously, wiping his sticky hands against his hakama.

How nice, black, crusted blood didn't have much effect on it.

"It is a strange world you've created, I hadn't thought it would be this chaotic. Of course it could be because you are no longer here."

Hyourinmaru let his protests die on his tongue. He didn't think even Benihime could answer why anyone would want this nevertheless _wish_ for it.

A wish, what a waste of a wish, he would have wished for a better life. How worse off was his counterpart that he would willingly put himself through this?

He couldn't imagine.

"I'm here," he mumbled, and she smiled at him kindly before fanning herself. Zangetsu appeared beside her as a black shadow to her_ sylvette_ form. His eyes bore down at him though he said nothing. He resisted the urge to turn around and see if Ichigo was watching. Then he thought how easy life would be if he could blame it all on the strawberry-blonde. If only he had been doing his job on time and not letting innocent—but drunk—bystanders get killed, he would have stayed free of all this, unknowing, ignorant, and stupid.

It wasn't as bad as it all sounded to be.

"It's obvious there's been a conflict. There are grains of truth to even the unlikeliest of claims."

"And what is this truth you speak of? What rumors," Benihime laughed delicately. Zangetsu gave her a wary look.

"You know best of us all."

"Perhaps," she admitted.

Hyourinmaru pouted, he was still there and he had a distinct feeling they were talking about him anyways.

"You are talking about me right?"

"You and everyone else," Zangetsu nodded slowly, eyes narrowing behind his shades. "I have asked you before. How many are still alive?"

"You have?" Hyourinmaru blinked, it was news to him.

"You answered nine, I ask again dragon, how many else have you kept all these years?"

-x-

Ichigo rearranged Renji's limbs and settled him into a sitting position. He didn't talk to the redhead as much as he wanted to—_another crazy mission huh?_—but something ached deep inside him, beneath the whole—god Renji is _dead_.

He sat surrounded by corpses, occasionally throwing glares at Hyourinmaru's side as Zangetsu appeared beside Benihime with the subtlety of Zabimaru's roar. And one by one, the bodies began to disintegrate. He didn't pay attention at first, he didn't know any of them personally. There was a cute girl thrown in a bunch and he wondered if he had seen her before in the sixth division. There was a ratty looking man with a broken jaw a few feet away. If he hadn't been focusing on how whisker-like the salt-and-pepper mustachio looked, he would have never seen the man melt into the earth like rain.

Huh

He didn't know what to think

Technically death gods were soul particles put together much like humans were made of billions of cells. He figured that they couldn't exactly bury them if they were to be reborn in the material world as humans but still... disconcerting.

It wasn't until the blood puddles dried up, broken ground patched, and Renji finally laid to rest that he stood up panicking and calling for Benihime.

-x-

"So you're saying that we're technically fighting against myself. _I__'__m_ fighting against myself. Does that mean I'm suicidal?"

Benihime dissolved into soft giggles. Hyourinmaru felt a little better hearing it, but it did nothing to dissipate the unease growing inside him of late.

"It is no laughing matter." Zangetsu said gravely, but then he said everything else with the severity of discussing an approaching war, even the weather. For someone who perpetuated rain, he seemed to mimic it a lot. "Imagine what would happen if the world shatters if we're still in it."

"I don't have to imagine, it practically happened already for me..." Catching the twitch of a vein on the man's forehead Hyourinmaru coughed, "so the plan is the rescue Rukia and hope that forces that be will somehow transport us out of here."

"It's the only plan."

"Umm if this is my mind and it's breaking up because there's nothing to hold it together and it's technically a collective hive mind of things that I supposedly... ate..." at this point in time, the words brought up an image of a brain made up of melting ice cream, slices of miniature pineapples, fried—burnt—rice and pickled radishes. "How am I supposed to get out?"

"Hey guys look! The bodies are gone!"

-x-

"The bodies of death gods are designed to automatically cross dimensions and be reborn. Saves us from unnecessary paperwork"

He thought and thought that that sounded about right.

"Yeah I guess you're not the type to sit around and fill out paperwork..."

"Oh? Then what is my type Hyourin-chan?"

"What about the blood?" Ichigo asked suddenly with a look of concentration on his scowling face. "This isn't just half-assed manga storyline we're unraveling, why is it so..."

Undisturbed, perfect, he hadn't thought about that. It just seemed convenient, things cleaning up by themselves. Now if only the same could be applied to his bedroom, everything would be honky dory.

'You're not going back'

Hyourinmaru breathed in sharply.

_'You can't go back'_

"Blood is part of the death god. Everything is made of spiritual particles here. Either it has gone with the death god or it has returned to this world."

"This world." Ichigo repeated reflecting exactly what he thought of 'this world'.

"Careful young Kurosaki, if it had been any of the others, human or death gods, we would not be standing here right now."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Their mind would have cracked and brought us down with them."

"Oh."

"We should get going." Zangetsu spoke up quietly. "The doorway should have deposited us at the gates but it did not. We still have a long way to go yet."

"At this rate, even with you at the front, it'll take two more days..."

Zangetsu returned to his sword form at the subtle threat.

"It will be good for your training, Kuchiki-kun is quite impressive after all."

"Huh?"

"Observe well, this is the art of what you death gods call 'shunpo'."

-x-

He was left behind.

He wasn't all that surprised, not really.

He had been expecting something like this since the whole god-I-just-killed-someone incident. Only they hadn't abandoned him to sit on his ass over a corpse. They did it—or didn't technically—because he was lagging behind.

They're not human—he thought, panting as he braced himself against the wall of an unlucky house.

**'****Follow****'**

"Trying..." he huffed, his toes tingling in protest as he tried to put another foot forward.

**'****Follow****'**

"I got it the first time oka... yow!" he blew softly on his hand which the splinters were cheerfully using it as a live pincushion. He gnawed at his skin, licking the traces of salt, copper and the musty earth from the whorls at his fingertips. He sighed, wiping away the beads of sweat that threatened to run down the side of his face. The sleeve came off damp and wet. He rubbed it against the seat of his hakama, cursing at the sun to withdraw so he could at least afford the luxury of a shade.

Eyes followed his progress and he shivered. He didn't know what lay ahead but he knew what laid the path he had come from. Either way could spell a certain doom for him now that he was alone.

If this was his body, wasn't he allowed some modicum of control from it?

His katana had been reduced to a tentative walking stick and yet his trek through the districts did not even dull the silver blade. The now cobblestoned path parted easily whenever the sword sunk into its surface. The people seemed reluctant to approach, as exhausted as he appeared. A man chewed and spat at his feet. He paid little attention to it and walked on.

He was beginning to realize that perhaps the way he was attired had something to do with it. despite his obvious youth and lack of stature, people spoke around him in hushed voices, never knowing that he could understand every single word that dropped past their clicking teeth—yes he was short, but it's not as though they had room to speak of it like that!

Death god—death gods, he wondered if he could barter food off with that name. it seemed to work very well in the material world. Just show your teacher your test results and you're free to sleep in class. The only thing he seemed to be good at was getting in a shitload of mess of late. He tried struggling towards a vendor selling balls of lumpy rice when he was struck with the thought that maybe if there _was_ some internal conflict going on in his mind, wouldn't the other denizens suddenly sprout fangs and horns or something and try to maul him? Indeed if there was something going in inside him it explained why he woke up in random places, wearing different clothes, in different situations, missing time. It explained why for once he was with people, even if those said people hated his guts...

**'Such a flair for histrionics'**

"…and you make a crappy walking stick."

**'****Perhaps, I am a sword****'**

He thought, no you're not—

"that's... no excuse..." he was really tired now. The sun was sinking at last. The rows of thatched houses seemed to continue beyond the horizon. He wondered if it was a bad idea to suddenly sit on the ground to laugh.

**'****Follow****'**

"How exactly am I supposed to do that? So supposedly I made this all up and I should really be shut in an asylum somewhere but beyond that, I'm normal, weak human being. I can't suddenly disappear as useful as that little trick may be. I..."

**'****Follow****'**

"And aren't you very helpful today..."

_'__Shikai...!__'_

His heart leaped to his throat.

"That's not funny."

**'****It would be faster****'**

"I... can't."

**'****You must****'**

-x-

The sun set finally and Ichigo let out a sigh. They had booked a room in the first district waiting for the boy that never came. Benihime tilted her head back, musing at a split end she found while brushing her hair.

"we go on." Zangetsu put it so clearly, so _bluntly_ that there really was no way of arguing the point.

"But...!"

Even though the teen hated the bipolar git, he was a fellow human being—wasn't he?—and it didn't seem right to just leave him. He hadn't forgotten Hyourinmaru's other side, and how maybe if he hadn't let him lose consciousness—how does anyone fall asleep in the middle of a battle?—Renji would have been alive and well.

"It is as he said. How can one leave his own mind? We leave at dawn, with or without him."


	15. Chapter 15

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 15/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

* * *

**Phppsmss**- not exactly sure what you're asking. They're inside his head and more specifically his memories. They can't decide to summon world peace and be done with it, they can't just go 'Die Aizen' and have Aizen drop dead by their feet. But memories and perceptions can always be manipulated so uhh... yeah

* * *

He was... drifting for the lack of a better word.

He wondered if that was what happened to side characters outside panels—did they float in nothingness for all eternity until they were drawn anew? How lucky the main character must be to live on eternally in inked pages until a story came to an end.

He woke up.

For a moment he thought he was back in his head, in his school, back in Karakura town. For one sweet moment he had thought that all he had been through in the past week was a dream, nothing more and whatever lay ahead would be same as the last he had woken up in his bed, but it was not to be.

The static hisses filled his ears and he rubbed his eyes feeling very tired.

As soon as the head officer in the infirmary area cleared him, he and his sword were kicked out into the hallway where a line had formed of shinigami possessing various injuries and mutations on their skin. A particularly large boil popped and splattered his chin with purple pus.

"Gross..." he protested, making a face. A few heads turned his way at his cry, a particularly owlish looking man dressed in black—they were all dressed in black—stepped out of the line to peer at him closely. He realized that there was no way the rounded blue orbs were in anyway natural and scooted away with his feet.

"You look familiar." The man started scuttling back into line as it began to move. "But you're not from our division are you?" there seem to be a general consensus amongst the variously injured and mutated.

Well how the hell was he supposed to know? He just woke up. He could barely make a fist without incorporating his other hand.

"Maybe he's one of the test subjects..." another person said dourly as he held his bleeding arm elevated. "Goodness knows we can never keep track of them."

"Hn, but he got treated in the infirmary; it indicates that he is of high status... perhaps even equal to ours."

"Hah, he's a child."

His hair rose irritably at this comment though technically they were right.

He stood up, having decided he had spent enough dusting the hallways with his own body.

Numerous eyes appraised him in interest as he began to run down the halls, intent on finding a way out. Every once in a while when another person came from the other direction, he ducked his head and tried to make himself as small as possible. It seemed as though whatever worked for bullies in middle school worked exceedingly well here as well. He was slightly cheered by the prospect when he remembered that he didn't exactly know where 'here' was.

His hand went instinctively towards the back, the tips of index and middle finger knocking slightly against the wooden scabbard.

'Aren't you supposed to give me a heads up or something?'

'**Not particularly'**

He groused inwardly and turned a corner. He crashed into someone, getting a face full of stapled papers as a voice rose shrilly about how incompetent everyone was. He rubbed his face, almost bloody from the paper cuts. There was a dull, melancholy voice that apologized repeatedly as the papers were gathered up. He tucked his knees beneath his chin and handed the older teen a fallen sticky note—odd seeing as how traditional everything else seemed—and tried hard to look insignificant while the masked man raved above his head.

At last when the papers had been gathered and the girl's extraordinarily durable ears began to show signs of wear the man looked down and nudged him with a toe.

"And who might you be?"

"Uhh..."

"I do not recognize him Mayuri-sama."

Thanks a lot—he bit back and scrambled to his feet. He began to edge away as the asymmetric mask rocked back and forth on his head. He wondered if the black face was part of the mask as well or just face paint.

"You have a fascinating circulatory system..." the man hissed, pointing a darkly painted nail in at his nose.

He gulped nervously,

'**He means 'run''**

Run

He could do that, it's all he's been doing half his life and god...

He was sorry to say that he let an honest-to-god whimper out of his throat. His stomach lurched, his head still ringing. He was pretty sure the shockwave from the blow would have torn the delicate eardrums if Mayor hadn't succeeded in doing so in the first place.

The wall behind him cracked and folded in half. The girl in the miniskirt drew back her fists again, this time aiming for the more generic area of his stomach.

Shit

With the maniac cackling of the man in his ears, he bent backwards as his knees gave away and he fell flat on his back. The girl wrapped her hands firmly around his throat subduing him as he tried to get away, elbowing her in the process as he flipped over onto his stomach.

What was it with people and trying to strangle him?

And now, after deciding that breaking his backbone would potentially be fatal to non-superhuman beings like him, was trying to suffocate him on the eleventh division's beautifully maintained concrete lawn. He felt a squirt of blood go into his mouth as his nose gave away under pressure. He opened his clenched mouth, tongue scraping against the heated ground as Mayuri began stepping in circles around him.

"Interesting. Surrendering so easily?"

Please, he would have fought if he knew how.

What little he knew about knives was that one, you could stab butter with it and two, you could peel fruits and vegetables on those lonely nights when the dormitory supervisor decided it was beneath her station to actually prepare the ingredients for cooking.

His forehead was scraped open as he turned his face so he could breathe better. He saw the detached green eyes stare down at him as she applied pressure to his bobbing throat. For a moment he didn't feel the pain of being slowly suffocated to death. He saw the speckles of green and thought that it was a nice color overall, even though it would have made more sense had they been icy blue.

And all through this, he only became worried when a heavy hand landed on his back and tore Hitsugaya away from him.

"Don't you dare," he snarled, an icy burst of reiatsu freezing the father, daughter's hands. "Give him back." he raged, nails gouging chunks out of concretes like it was made of Styrofoam. "Give him back!!"

-x-

Benihime looked increasingly haggard as they sped down the streets of Seireitei. They had to move around the officers and in some unfortunate cases, knock them out but they were making good time. The scarlet-eyed woman had deduced that the adopted Kuchiki would be held in the white towers near the West Gate. With little else to go on, Ichigo agreed and was following where the sun was slowly but surely setting across the horizon.

Feeling a bit of remorse for the shop owner, he suggested that they slow down and received a whack to the head in return. What he thought had been manners only proved opposite as Benihime pushed on muttering something about chauvinist pigs as Zangetsu sat smugly on his back.

As the blues of the sky warped to grey, the strawberry-blonde couldn't help but look back over his shoulders every second or so at the image of the chaos they left behind.

He was missing something here wasn't he?

But what?

Ichigo grabbed Benihime's wrist

"This way!"

-x-

'**Calm down'**

But now could he? It was painful and disturbing all at once. It was like a spiritual equivalent of having someone's hand stuck up your gut.

And the voice said perhaps a gentler tone, **'it's going to be okay.'**

He subsided,

"Haha... I'll hold you to that."

-x-

Hitsugaya grunted in annoyance,

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"You... you are not supposed to be here!!"

He twitched his ears, delicately placing a cloven forefoot in front of his death god. He waved his tail idly seemingly disinterested in the whole conversation. The plume at the end billowed slightly at each descent. Mayuri added acidly, "This is entirely your fault..."

"And so it is. But either way this dream will end sooner or later."

"Are you mad?!" the image of the 12th division screeched. "Have you forgotten what he is to you?! Have you forgotten what we are?!" the sword in his hand sprung into its unsealed form.

"I haven't forgotten," Hitsugaya said calmly, his mane a pale halo around his dished face. Mayuri dropped to the earth with a small gurgle, what was visible of his hands tinged blue. "Isn't that why we're all here?"

-x-

The two shinigami arrived just as Kurotsuchi Mayuri and his daughter melted away into the landscape.

"Toushiro?!"

Hitsugaya flattened his ears across his the back of his skull.

"Come, they know we're here."

-x-

"It's just a dream..." he said suddenly, sitting up.

Ichigo spat tea all over himself as he continued, "...and the rest does not matter."

-x-

"You don't look well." Zangetsu stated matter of fact as he sat down next to her. "Hyourinmaru or something else?"

"What every girl needs to hear, thank you." Sniffed Benihime, blowing at her tea. "But not Hyourinmaru this time. I think I may need to rethink my theory a little."

"Hitsugaya."

"Quite."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Not in the way you think."

"Not now Benihime."

The soul cutter turned death god pouted,

"Have you ever found it odd that Captain Hitsugaya has lasted as long as he has so far?"

"I would expect nothing less from a captain."

"High praise."

"But the truth, the tenth division's captain is... powerful despite his youth."

"Still... I wonder what they did to achieve this delicate balancing act..."

-x-

"We have to go all the way up there?"

"You spend most of your time hiding out on school rooftops, don't tell me you're afraid of heights."

Hah, he laughed inwardly. Statistically, he was likely to survive if he fell off five stories and landed on the soft grass below. Statistically, it was unlikely for a midget like him to be able to push through the wire fencing to actually jump off.

"There should be guards but they should be no problem for you. Give me a holler if you come up against interesting won't you?"

"Wait!" Ichigo pointed an accusatory finger at the scarlet-eyed shopkeeper. "You're not coming with us?"

"Me climb all those stairs?" she replied cheerfully, "no, never. So run along now." She waved her fingers primly as she sat down next to a shade.

"I can't... believe this..." Ichigo gritted as he took in the full structural marvel of the white towers.

"Couldn't you shunpo up there?"

"I could but you can't can you?" their brief separation was omitted from this sentencing.

"You could toss him up there." Said Benihime helpfully as she looked up at the bridges connecting the towers to one another.

He frowned,

"You wouldn't."

-x-

He did.

-x-

Hyourinmaru had been unceremoniously been dumped on a bridge with a trailing promise that Ichigo would soon catch up. Thankfully due to the unnatural physics of this plane he hadn't retained much damage from his less than gracefully landing. Regrettably, it also meant that Ichigo's arms were left intact despite having thrown another person into the air. At this rate, they might as well be able to magically teleport back home.

He came face to face with a timid—even more timid than him—boy who was holding a broomstick tightly in his hands. He hiccupped when Hyourinmaru passed by him looking as though he would like nothing better than to hit him across the head with it. The brown eyed junior stared at him warily, recognizing the classic signs of bullying written all across the other boy's face.

He shook his head when his vision blurred—it seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Hyourinmaru?"

Oh, this was now getting ridiculous.

Guards were swarming around them, just noticing that one of the intruders had the luck to land right beside the cell. Then you should have put her higher—he thought rebelliously, tearing off the thin strips of paper covering the door. His hand tingled slightly as they came apart with a loud rip. Rukia eyeballed him with large eyes, disbelief painted across her face.

"What are you doing here?"

"You know this person?" the other boy spoke up, looking terrified.

"I... don't know actually," he muttered in reply, "I'm kind of getting this as I go." With a heave he pushed the door open. "Come on!" He urged as Rukia came stumbling after. He grabbed her wrist, pinching the skin there between his index finger and the thumb. She cursed in a very unlady-like fashion, obviously learned from her prolonged stay in the material world. A helpless expression fell across her face and she opened her mouth to speak only no words were heard.

Not quite true, he could still hear few of the discernable conjunctions from the shape of her pale mouth. Her pupils widened and contracted into fine points. She was like a fish caught out of water and asphyxiating fast.

She either remembered or she was suffocating from the spiritual pressure.

Not that it would do them much good. Maybe they could somehow ditch the dark-haired stiff she called her brother.

Choices, choices

Rukia withdrew,

"Scatter Senbonzakura."

He whirled around, putting himself—idiotically—between Rukia and the petal-storm soul cutter. She nipped him gently on the shoulder once before washing over him like harmless foam. Byakuya seemed especially irate at the turn of the events. His grip over the flower-shaped guard tightened and Senbonzakura rebound to him in a swarm, the delicate petals glowing brightly even in the sun.

"Rukia!" Ichigo had finally caught up. Hyourinmaru felt like dropping him back on the ground.

Seeing no immediate danger in the three, dark-haired children before him, Byakuya temporarily turned his attention towards the brighter haired of the intruders. Ichigo phased in and out of sight, narrowly avoiding getting caught in the spectral storm. He came close to the sixth division's captain, bringing down Zangetsu in a wide swing. Byakuya seemed to have expected that and blew him back several feet. The noble looked slightly baffled and furrowed his forehead. Hesitance touched his actions as he drew back Senbonzakura into a rounded shield around him.

"Intruders..." he started, as the petals gathered and reformed into a steel blade. "...Must be eliminated."

He raised his hand and defended himself as trails of mauve silk attacked him.

"Byakuya-kun." Benihime greeted curtly as she hid the four younger death gods behind her large sleeves. The Kuchiki lord looked confused for a moment, a cloudy question mark forming in his solemn grey eyes.

"Benihime" he said finally, skepticism written his arched eyebrows.

"Captain!" Renji was there, whole, alive, absent of the whole in his chest. Ichigo looked about to faint in relief before the expression morphed into one of abject horror as the redhead swaggered up to them. The lieutenant already had his soul cutter in its initial release, ready to launch it at them once the sixth division's captain gave his assent.

Or without—Hyourinmaru thought, if Kuchiki refused to grant the unspoken request, Renji would lash at anyways and cut them ear to ear regardless of what the stoic captain did afterwards. Renji wasn't real, he killed him—they killed him.

"Stand..." Hyourinmaru's innards froze. It was like an innate sense of trouble, innate sense of time, and innate sense of war. It was the innate sense of wrongness that came to him when the light of the sun bounced of the thin katana and _winked_ at him.

"No Benihime..." he breathed, it was like watching a car wreck, he just couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Urahara!"

-x-

'**Nine, figures...'**

'Benihime's going to be mad...'

There was no one to intervene. Hyourinmaru struggled beneath Benihime's nonexistent weight as they fell through the bridge. Luckily they landed on another, near the bottom level of the tower but chunks of wood and rock hurtled down from above. He yelped when a piece of concrete smashed against his arm with a quick snap. He jumped over Benihime's unconscious form and tried to cover her as much as he could. She didn't stir. He threw his head back and screamed,

"Kurosaki!"

But he heard no reply amidst the collapsing background.

A distraction and they could all get away.

'**So make one'**

'Me? Are you what, crazy?'

'**If you say so'**

'How can I make a distraction?'

'**What was the point of reading all those graphic novels if you can't even think of a single way to make distraction?'**

'Good question'

A really good question—Benihime was fading fast. He slapped her cheeks as much as he could while binding a tourniquet over her bare shoulders and breasts. He blushed hotly, fumbling with the red-dipped knot as he called softly,

"Benihime-san, can you hear me? You need to wake up."

But she didn't, her teeth still clamped over her lower lip splitting a half-formed scab.

'What do I do?'

'**Call for me'**

No. No, that had been decided from the beginning. He could not ask him for help.

'Why not?'

He didn't know—didn't exactly care—but knew something bad would happen if he did and the thought was worse than being stuck in the crumbling ruins with a dying woman and a voice inside his head.

'**Now'**

'No, don't'

A drawn out snarl

'_That was easier than I thought it would be, wouldn't you say so Gin, Tousen?'_

'**Who would you believe?'**

His breath became caught in his throat at the quiet admission. All protests died, rolled up belly in the air. The air pushed past his lungs and inflating them and he felt the other persona melt away.

No, not quite melt away.

It was still there like a complex puzzle he constantly failed to understand. In his experience, the simplest answers were _always_ the best. Only, he couldn't seem to even figure out the odds and ends of the said simple equation.

'Hitsugaya'

The faint timbre hit a note within him that blossomed out like a crisp white flower. He felt warm, safe—just like the time he had unintentionally run Renji through.

'**Raise your hand.'**

His hand rose automatically until the broken limb stood palm up at the debris-ridden sky.

When the hell had he unsheathed his sword?

He tried concentrating, the supple length of the steel and the silver and green hilt. Then he realized—well didn't he feel stupid? Maybe he should have listened to the other voice in his head. Whatever the option two had been, he was pretty sure it didn't involve him with his hand outstretched like an idiot's, waiting for something else to strike him and possibly pop his elbow off this time.

'**Call me'**

'Call you? Can you try and be a bit more vague? I don't think I caught it the first time.'

'**Do you trust me?'**

The answer was inevitably yes and the smug bastard knew it. Still, he hesitated. Sure he's listened to the oddly cool voice of reason in the past but didn't everyone? He was half-tempted to kick the shopkeeper awake and demand that he'd be let out of this wacked nightmare. Something like a blunt muzzle scraped alongside the back of his head—inside his skull. His eyes rolled up, vision fading. His face throbbed hotly and he made up his mind as the surroundings grew darker and darker with each millisecond—just how long does it take a reasonably more-than-one-ton object to fall from the sky?

"Bankai!" the thin katana glowed bright with cold energy. "Jigokukizu Hitsugaya!" there was a vague sensation of something exploding, as though he had launched a missile from the center of his palms like in a cartoon. Something stepped on the silver surface of the newly formed zambato and he screamed as the broken bones were unceremoniously forced together. Then he saw something black and white, huge and glorious leap into the sky as if it was about to take flight. He forgot about the pain, the voices in his head were quiet. So enthralled he didn't notice the debris crumble to handfuls of ashes in the air. He was fully blind now, completely at the mercy of whatever was going to fall and strike him down. But for the longest time he saw—remembered—a pair of eyes like the most perfect pair of emeralds known to mankind.

He snapped his head back, breathing heavily as he groped the ground and touched something soft, the ends of unconscious Benihime's luxurious mane. He grasped the thick locks and growled, feeling his bones knit though the skin around his wrist never did. The sky was clear now—or so he felt—it felt safe to fly in only he had no wings and knew what happened to those who really believed that they were Superman and jumped off buildings.

Still, it didn't stop his shoulders from aching with the phantom weight of wings that simply weren't there. It didn't stop him from shaking his head like a dog—a dragon—and worriedly keen to the sky.

"I was wondering what Captain Kuchiki was doing, you must be one of the intruders."

Hyourinmaru growled like a dog—like a dragon dammit—towards the newcomer's general direction and felt his stomach drop to the lowest segment of his tail—that is, if he had one.

"Kusaka," his back hairs rose more out of surprise than anger. But not fear, dragons didn't fear right? Considering he was being stared down by a literal ghost, he thought it was reasonably proper to freak out.

"You know my name, I'm honored. Though I'm afraid..." he spoke slowly and carefully like pronouncing words syllable by syllable to a particularly dull creature. "I cannot let Captain Aizen's murderers go unpunished."

It was simply unfair, this was his mind. Aizen—whoever the hell he was—shouldn't exist! It was his mind, didn't he get a say in how he was going to get treated?

Gods, was this what Hitsugaya had wanted to see?


	16. Chapter 16

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 16/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

* * *

Kusaka pointed his zanpakuto at them, his face set in determination as his subordinates flanked in from the back. It had been surprising to see the pale-blue hilt and the four-petal flower guard connected to it. But it did nothing to soften the impact of the words that followed.

It was as if the very air was being sucked dry. Spherical droplets of water formed in mid air.

"Sit upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!"

Nothing happened. Then inexorably his entire form began to waver. Frost formed on the ground like dark fissures across a plain of ice. He threw his head back, his hair fluttering in the wind yet nonexistent as from the tips they faded and flew into a stream of frozen water around Captain Kusaka's soul cutter. Hitsugaya dropped from his hands with the inevitability of a glass wall breaking under repeated blows. Briefly his eyes glowed red as if to remind them all of whom he was and what he could do. The tenth division captain stepped forward and whipped his arm out in a slashing motion. A dragon-like apparition flew forth, jaws agape and his eyes glowing like the dying embers of a fire--wrong, there was something wrong he thought--as he disappeared beneath the sheets of ice.

-x-

'_...Nejibana...'_

'_We have to tell them'_

'_We are not to interfere with such matters'_

'_This is wrong'_

'_Hyourinmaru...'_

'_There would be no war if we could stop this, there needn't be a war if we could stop this!'_

'_Some of us feed on war Hyourinmaru. Some of us cannot live unless there is chaos, the need to be called on. Would you deprive them all of this, because...'_

'_Neijibana was a beloved, even you cannot deny this.'_

'_We all know the risks of approaching a death god, even you, but you did it anyways have you not? You've chosen a fine young thing...'_

'_No...'_

'_Enough...'_

Ryuujin Jakka could see the snowstorm gathering between his teeth. He bellowed out his frustrations and buffeted his burning wings deeper into the turbulent skies. Flashes of ember cast light into his scales. Had it been anyone but Hyourinmaru they would have burned where they stood, naught but ashes in their awake.

The flames dispelled the strange weather and shackled the winds under his control. The air became hot propelling him upwards. He could see the dragon dissolving under the heat, his fine whiskers misty tendrils as he raised his head and roared in defiance. The firebird choked out rings of fire from his throat before breathing blue-edged inferno at him. Hyourinmaru initially resisted with a blast of powder and ice, all evaporating into steam as the two elements clashed in midair. But the water to turn to steam in his jaws as breathed into the volatile flames. He let it enter his melting mouth and allowed himself to be drowned by smoke. His face burned, where his eyes had been creating a smooth bowl to cradle the fire.

Ryuujin Jakka immediately stopped his assault. Even though Hyourinmaru had broken rules, defied him, even attacked him he was still Hyourinmaru. The only Soul Cutter to have ever stood against him, his best friend. By this time others had caught up moaning at the sight of the once proud dragon lying in a sea of tears with flames scorching his back.

The icy apparition might have groaned once or twice but he quickly melted away to their dismay. It wasn't until Shirayuki's sojourn to the material world that they had learned of his blindness, his rage, and his pain.

-x-

There was no one else.

No one else to fix this.

Hyourinmaru—gone, Benihime—unconscious, Ichigo—dying or close to it, Rukia—weak, Kuchiki Byakuya—blind, and he...

... His fault no one else's.

The snow felt real but he knew in his head that it wasn't real. The suffocation felt real but in his mind he knew that he was just pretending. He wormed his fingers through the white layer, feeling numbness and nothing that would indicate up from down. He had to get out. He forced his fingers to a fold and gathered what little reiatsu he had left into melting the winter landscape.

Odd, he had always tried to enforce it, always at home in the cold.

But now...

He sucked in the cold air, frost forming in the thin capillaries of his lungs as he shook his head. He was dressed in black, something he had never worn in this lifetime. He had been promoted too quickly, too young. Too used to the privileges of being a captain.

He let out a hoarse cry, unable to formulate words with his blue lips. But somehow, he found the strength to stand up. Biting his hand to improve circulation, he used an attack kidou on the surrounding area. The effect was dismal at best. The snow melted into layers of soft and packed ice. At least, he was able to unearth Benihime from her premature grave. He saw the towers looming in the mist; he was still in the same area. He should be able to find Kurosaki Ichigo nearby unless some figment of his imagination stole him away. The air seemed heavy, the sky sinking down upon the earth. If he concentrated, he could see the fractures lining the outline of their world. Hyourinmaru was losing strength, fast.

Hyourinmaru

He knelt, dazed, making sure that the one-armed woman was breathing. He wiped her face, trying to pack snow into the socket of her missing arm. Blood didn't stain snow exactly. Her blood was warm enough that it ate its way through the blanket of white. The inexorably terrifying beauty of blood on snow touched him ways that he had forgotten. He sat there for a while, Benihime's head cradled in his lap as he carefully coaxed her wounds into closing.

'**Hyourinmaru...'**

He would have to search for Kurosaki soon. Fistfuls of strawberry blonde hair should not be too hard to find. But before that he needed–**"come back to me."**—to find the elder Kuchiki and the younger. He wasn't sure if it would help at all when trying to escape this nightmare.

It was a wish wasn't it?

A wish had been the beginning.

-x-

Zangetsu was waiting for him at the edge where the snow melted back into the packed earth and cobblestones of seireitei. Wordlessly they continued on, Benihime on Hitsugaya's back while the dark-haired soul cutter carried his death god. They made their way towards the fourth division where it was empty and devoid of any sentient presence. They helped themselves to the medical supplies, not questioning their existence or their own for that matter. Ichigo was covered mainly in flesh wounds; Benihime's was more serious and required a quick transfusion that involved one too many needles and failures. But at the very least, they were stable, they were alive.

"This is my fault." Hitsugaya breathed out.

Zangetsu barely turned his head away from the two unconscious ones resting in their beds.

"With all due respect Captain Hitsugaya, no one could have predicted this."

"No, it is my fault. I screwed up." He pinched the bridge of his nose,

"I fail to see how our situation is of your making. You simply do not have the energy to recreate an entire world in your dreamscape."

"But it's my memories." Zangetsu turned his head, frowning. "Kyouga Suigetsu merely provided the means. Hyourinmaru supplied the power; I gave it its design." He twisted his face into a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"What did you want Captain Hitsugaya?"

The prodigy barked out a short laughter, bringing up one hand to bury against his hair. His voice was still rough, damaged from the cold and shock.

"I always thought... what if I hadn't been there? What if I was the one who had lost? What if I was the one who had died? Kusaka... loved Soul Society; he would have died for it without question. I'm just here because of Hyourinmaru. I knew you know, even before Matsumoto came for me, I knew that I had the potential to become a shinigami. It would have been ok to just stay there... that was before I realized I nearly killed granny with my reiatsu. But I kept thinking after he died, what if Hyourinmaru had never made the mistake of choosing me?"

"That's not Kusaka Soujiro."

"I know now." He stood up, a misplaced soul cutter bound to his spine. "The Kusaka I knew, the Kusaka everyone was proud of would have never allowed this to happen."

-x-

They spent the next few days licking their wounds and recovering. Eventually Hitsugaya's voice improved though it did not change the fact that the white-haired captain had little to say and said even less. Ichigo bounced back from this adventure with no worse for wear and even less sense than he had started with. Though Benihime had to take frequent naps, she opened her eyes for the first time on the evening of the second day, her clouded red eyes focusing on the dejected form of the white-haired captain attempting to communicate with a newfound soul cutter.

And they had a new problem at hand,

Time wasn't passing.

Day after day they saw the same people pass by the window though none entered their sanctuary within the forth division. Hitsugaya had pointed out initially the clockwork routines of officers was hardly unusual but even he had to admit to its oddity when the man stopped for the fifth time in the same place, foot crushing a stray blade of grass, to pick at his nose.

It was a little like watching a video over and over again. The images did not change even if say, Benihime had thrown Ichigo in their path out of boredom.

"Hyourinmaru's gone, why else?"

"At least no one will attack us."

"We should go save Rukia."

"No we have time, we might as well garner our strength while we still can."

"Expecting guests Captain Hitsugaya?"

"Maybe"

-x-

A week later and Benihime was giving Ichigo a quick rundown of their history. The strawberry blonde continued to stare at him disconcertedly, seemingly bothered by the white hair and frosty green eyes. The substitute shinigami had yet to perform an actual bankai, his inner hollow seemingly nonexistent in the grand scheme of things.

Hitsugaya, tired of talking to an empty soul cutter, had taken to patrolling the perimeters, something he had never done as his rank had been too high to be relegated to such trivial work. He had gone out in a clockwise before returning the same way counter-clockwise. He had seen the same people, do the same things, at the same time. Nothing changed, the grass remained lush and spry, flowers vibrant. Somehow the medical supplies at the fourth division were always replenished though they never saw the culprit who did it.

"We should get Rukia."

"You are not strong enough, if Byakuya-kun at half his strength can fell you..."

"It's a good opportunity, if time does not pass during Hyourinmaru's absence, we should take care to use it wisely."

"Captain Hitsugaya?"

"We need Kuchiki."

"Rukia?"

"No, Kuchiki Byakuya."

-x-

He jumped over the rooftops not thinking of anything in particular.

This was the world had he died and Kusaka survived. At the surface it seemed no different than his own. He was beginning to think if it wasn't peaceful this way, having people who genuinely cared for the Soul Society amongst the highly ranked.

The weight of the abandoned soul cutter was beginning to bother him. The dimensions were different, the blade too short. He was able to tie it to his waist and not have it drag against the ground. The hilt guard was nondescript, a flat rounded piece of metal with hints of what it could have been scratched across its surface.

He did not realize where he had stopped until someone struck out at him from the dark, better hidden in the night. The moon lit his hair ablaze into a silver flare. He bent over, feeling the air pass by his face as the katana narrowedly avoided cutting his face into pieces.

"Intruder!" a familiar voice called angrily, pink and red sparks sputtering from the edges of her soul cutter. With a cry she swiped forward, the prong-like blades on the sword's side indicating that she had already lifted its initial seal. "Burst Tobiume!"

-x-

"Toushiro is Toushiro?"

"Captain Hitsugaya is the one you knew of before; the one who has been with us so far is a soul cutter."

"Ehh? What happened?"

"I am not sure, I was unconscious at that time and Captain Hitsugaya refuses to say..."

"Obvious is it not? Hyourinmaru has left us once again."

-x-

He skidded backwards on his heels wondering if Hinamori had always been this strong or he been that weak. But of course she was a lieutenant and he nothing but a young upstart whelp without his soul cutter. Still he tried as Tobiume cut the ends of his snowy hair. He kicked back and flipped himself over, just barely dodging another attempt at his head.

"Enough, Hinamori!"

But she kept coming.

He briefly wondered if they knew each other in this life, in this dream.

"Number 53! Hyakubi!" globes of fire rained down upon them. It lit up their faces and their still youthful skin. The blue flames cast a silver glow to his hair like a waterfall made up entirely of starlight at the back of his skull.

Hinamori's eyes were wide, frightened. He saw with chagrin that he had accidentally singed off the lid of her left eye. She began to snivel and the sword reverted to its original sealed state. She held a hand out,

"Shiro-chan?"

He cringed at the nickname but it was perhaps one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. He took her hand in confirmation. Instantly, he was greeted with an armful of a blubbering girl. "Shiro-chan!" she began to bawl, soaking his shirt through as she grabbed handful of the black material as if to tear at it. "You're alive," she whispered in quiet wonder, the light in her eyes unnerving Hitsugaya greatly. "I always knew of course... but... Aizen-sama was right... Oh Shiro-chan! I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

"I don't need any protection bed-wetter Momo," he replies hoarsely feeling faint.

"How could he do that to you! He was your friend!"

"Hinamori..."

She wiped the tear out of her eyes, making soft noises akin to sobbing. She hugged him tight around the frail bird-like ribcage and he let her. He let her rock him back and forth in her embrace wondering if he would ever be able to do the same to her.

"H... H... His fault."

He closed his eyes.

"Hinamori..."

-x-

Kuchiki wasn't hard to find but then where else would the aristocratic captain be other than in the luxuriously furnished office of the 6th division?

It's dangerous—there still being a 0.0005 percent chance that he just might be wrong—because he's supposed to be dead and he knows that the dead don't stick around in the Soul Society.

Well...

It was complicated; to them it was the material world that became their afterlife.

But everything had gone wrong in this world hadn't it? Hope had been the one awesomely attractive factor in this fucked up nightmare. Now, as he saw that Kusaka had lived where he had fallen, Momo a devout fanatic still, Soul Society collapsing from inside out with no end in sight. The only consolation to be had was that none of this was real and even if it was in an obscure way inside his head he'd put an end to it no matter what it took.

He disregarded the nondescript guards—they weren't real anyways—and passed the wooden caricature of a third seat about to be promoted Lieutenant.

In went into the room with the same feline poise of a ranked captain and announced himself while omitting his title. The effect was instantaneous. The dark-haired nobleman stood up immediately from his paperwork, stress lines marring his otherwise flawless visage. His grey eyes were narrowed and suspicious. His mouth was pinched in a tight line.

"You"

Then he realized that Kuchiki and Hyourinmaru's introduction might not have given the best of first impressions. And hey, now that he thought about it, he and Hyourinmaru's form did share similar characteristics—the delicate jaw line, long lashes and almond shaped eyes.

Crap

Trust the aristocratic captain to forget about getting his adopted sister almost executed but remember stuff like this.

Thankfully, Hitsugaya's hair lit up like a Christmas tree under the candle light. The intervening shades of amber and gold made the nobleman start before recomposing himself.

"If you're one of Ichimaru's illegimit children looking for a seat within Gotei 13, I don't want to hear it."

Hitsugaya's face wrinkled in disgust.

"What?!" he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Are you mad? That is just sick."

Byakuya nodded absentmindedly. The long folds of his shinigami robes billowed gracefully around his lanky form as he sat back down. "We agree on something I see. How did you get in here?"

"I bribed the guards."

The lines on Byakuya's forehead furrowed further.

"My name is Hitsugaya Toushiro. But I believe you already know of this."

"Impossible," Byakuya interrupted in a flat voice, "You're dead. Accident during unsupervised training."

Accident

Kusaka rearing back as the ice clipped him on the side of his face

Unsupervised

Hyourinmaru's physical double shattering under everyone's watchful gaze

Training

The dark forces gaining up on the dark-haired young man as Hitsugaya screamed his lungs out.

"Is that what they're calling it here?" He mused, his right hand creeping along his spine in search of the familiar weight of the wooden hilt. He immediately retracted his fingers. "Kusaka didn't kill me."

"Why are you here then Hitsugaya Toushiro? Why now? Am I to believe you?"

Hitsugaya cringed at the harsh tone. Kuchiki Byakuya had been one of the very few who actually used the title—which he rightfully earned—and meant it. To have the man so casually disregard the catalyst that triggered this very dream-nightmare...

He pushed the thought away.

"Your sister is in danger."

"Indeed, what worse fate than losing your soul forever?"

"I realize this is difficult to believe but they're planning a coup, Aizen, Ichimaru and Tousen. They want to open the dimension of the kings."

"You're right, I don't believe you."

He peeled off a post-it. Even as traditional as the man was, it seemed as though even he couldn't deny the allure of the practicality offered by the bear-shaped notes.

"Captain Kuchiki..." Hitsugaya suppressed a sigh of exasperation. Now was not the time to be thrown out on his ass. "Time has stopped. You may want to pass it off as the chamber members delaying the inevitable but you know the truth. Time has stopped, why else has Abarai Renji not returned to you when he has time after time with worse injuries." He took the papers away from the noble's fingertips. "Why else have you been filling out the same paperwork for the past week?"

"I assumed that there was a backlog." He replied solidly, his eyes narrowing.

Silence

"She's your sister."

"Even so, she has broken the law."

-x-

He wasn't floating, not exactly.

Floating would have implied that he was able to move freely about, only suspended in midair with no will added to it. He noted this with pessimistic calm, rivulets of freshly melted water carving creeks down his cheeks and jaws before freezing into overlapping scales around his neck.

'Gaya...?'

He felt the boy-captain's fingers on his hilt, the frozen breath scattering over his blade. He was back where it all started, the last moments of sweet reality before his consciousness was warped into something out of a hopeless dream.

'_Nice dream was it not?'_

It seemed as though it had all stopped. All of them, there was no sound of battle, killing and surviving. His sealed form merely hung in midair, waiting for Hitsugaya to strike his hand down. But there were no following movement, no sound of material torn at his tip because they had missed once again. No sensation of his sickle and chains reaching out to bind is prey. He was no more than a spectator, waiting for the enemy to make the next move.

Helpless... he was

'_You should have stayed'_

He didn't know why everything had slowed for him. It was awkwardly painful, this waiting. But they were not moving, still despite the danger cast in threes. The three traitors moved impossibly slow, their steps ponderous almost. He felt the vibrations travel from their foot to foot, up Hitsugaya's arms and through his fingers.

'Do not come near'

Panic rose in him, panic that was his, panic that was not his own. It was getting difficult to maintain focus. He wished to fly, away from this place, back to before when things were uncomplicated and he was young. Part of him recognized loyalty, the bond he forged and destroyed in turn when he chose the young boy as his death god.

'_You could leave'_ Kyouga Suigetsu cajoled, optimistic to the last. _'The boy feels no love for you, through you he has killed his best friend. He thinks of you a murderer at worst, a tool at best.'_

The weaker part of him, the stronger part of him, accepted this excuse and knew it to be true. He wished to fly, Hitsugaya was young yet, his wings untried. When would it be until he could soar through the frozen heavens unfettered? When would it be...

'**You chose him'**

He stiffened

'**You cannot think of abandoning him'**

Steps, footsteps, distance, closing

'**Will everything you've done so far come to naught'**

Aizen stops in front of them, hand rising too slowly to comprehend. The fingers brush the snowy white hair and burrows into them slightly. Nails scraping slightly against the scalp as the brunette captain began to pat Hitsugaya's head like a pet's, something lesser, base.

He snarls and Kyouga Suigetsu trembles mentally. He can see the facial features of the older captain close into a frown. His hand falls to his side and he turns, his feet barely rising as he stamps across the new formed snow.

An insult!

Perhaps he would have gone peacefully as Kyouga Suigetsu had bade, a traitor, a coward, a killer all his name as he tried to piece back together his fractured mind. He would have gone, flew away, abandoned the boy had Aizen not touched him.

And all who heard his roar trembled in its awake.


	17. Chapter 17

**Title:** Air Castle

**Chapters:** 17/?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**Pairings:** none

**Spoilers:** Assumes that you're up-to-date on the latest chapters. There is some DiamondDust Rebellion/the 2nd Bleach movie involved through out this story so watch out for that.

**Summary:** Hyourinmaru and Hitsugaya switch places. Outside forces try to piece them back together only the dragon doesn't want to go back to being a simple sword and his shinigami wants to see how this all plays out.

**A.N:** Thank you for the previous chapters' reviews

* * *

He woke up, half-curled and half in himself. 

The dragon roared at him, the whipping winds a testimony to its vast power as it near tore him apart into four pieces. He struggled, unwilling to let the snow swallow him as it had done many others before him. He roared back, forcing his phantom limbs to move as the chains above his heart kept him shackled to his body like an umbilical cord shared between a child and its mother. The shrill wind became words and blood steadily dripped down to his shoulders from the burst eardrums. The winds calmed briefly then started up again like a flexing body of a beast batting him around purely for amusement.

"I offer myself for the safety of our clan!"

"More blood," the dragon boomed scornfully. He could see the glacial scales rattling like grains against a bowl. The sinewy tail closed around his ghostly form, squeezed him, and curled around the chains before being chased away by a breath of frost. "What do you think has started all this? Blood cannot stop blood from spilling." The air cleared and for the first time in years he saw the open sky, pure and blue as the sun shone radiantly down in a circle above him. "I warned your kind not to come back." it revealed its broken face, prong-like horns and burning eyes. "Your kind lost the right to stay when you murdered my sons, killed my daughters and slayed their young." Its whiskers flowed stiffly past its strangely hollow cheeks, fangs opaque like the snow as it reared up against the sun. "I do not want you here, you are not welcome. I have no need for blood from those such as you. You who do not honor us, you who spill ours needlessly..."

"The only one who's been spilling blood is you! We only take what we need!" he thrust his transparent hands into his hands and they fit like some fleshy glove as he moved them towards his bag and forced it open. His fingers tore open against the frozen threads but no blood was spilt. He quickly moved through the leather pockets feeling the grim numbness travel up his spectral arms as he decided to spill the contents out on the snow. 

There were strips of mangled fur, provision when he had been cast out as a sacrifice to the gods. It was from a gray fox they had found one morning, cold and stiff buried in the snow. Its innards were stewed, the narrow bones broken for marrow. They had skinned it and smoked it deciding that food was the most immediate of concerns, he had three such strips left in his bag. Three strings of fur and muscle that he offered to the god of the tundra. "You killed her, you wanted to kill us, she died for us. You killed her, we did not kill her."

The sky opened up a little more, the edges of the storm fading into the marvelous blue. The dragon floated down gently, much of his body making contact with the frozen ground as its icy wings curled beneath its snowy belly. 

"What do you want child?"

"I want you to stop. We will honor your wish; my kind will honor your wish. We will not kill your children needlessly, we will honor them, and we will honor their blood."

"And you would let yourself go willingly?"

"For my family, my clan, anything."

-x-

Ichigo woke up.

He remained sitting, befuddled and confused.

A freckled boy, a child of the snow, a dragon in the sky, wandering through the winter, one never-ending dream.

A memory of a girl, her feet dipped in the hot springs.

He felt his eyes grow moist yet did not know why that was. His heartbeat slowed and sleep began to course through his vein. Yet he remained awake, hand clenched into a tight fist around his sheet, wondering where everyone else was.

-x-

"You realize I cannot let you go freely."

He looked around. He was sure that Byakuya too was disturbed by the nondescript presence of his men even more than he was. These were not the sixth division's handpicked officers; these were faceless placeholders standing with their dull pieces of steel held at an arm's length. They were nothing but mice caught in a role they were not used to playing. Hitsugaya curled his lips slightly in disdain,

"You can't hold me." Byakuya raised an elegant eyebrow, his hand at his sheath waiting for the white-haired boy's next move. At that moment, more than anything, Hitsugaya hated his lack of height for making him seem weaker, smaller, unbelievable and fallible. He nodded curtly as he backed towards the door, his spine close enough to touch the black fabrics behind him. "Think about it."

-x-

"Can't sleep either?"

"Who was he?"

"A dragon, a friend, a lover, a father, a brother, the storm, the ice, the winter, the seasons, the land... a long, long time ago."

Benihime turned towards him and smiled, a twist of bitterness hidden within the redness of her lips. "If they had parted before then, Hyourinmaru would have been left with a beautiful memory, not an askew sense of justice he has instilled within himself." She shook her head and set her cup down, only one hand left to do everything her two hands couldn't. She brushed her hair back, rubbing the thick black strands between her index finger and thumb.

"And now you see the results."

-x-

"Halt intruder!"

Someone had sounded an alarm.

Hitsugaya swore as he was thrown off his feet and landed on his back. The side of his skull pulsed in pain as a sizeable goose egg formed right above his ear. He felt unusually clumsy, like an adolescent pup or a feline with too big of a feet to match its body. He stumbled as he got up, hand instinctively straying towards the sheath tied around his back. He tore it out of the sheath with a sharp screech and lowered into a defense position as black-clad shinigami created a loose ring around him.

His stance faltered suddenly as the captain appeared into view. The man was masked, his white haori elegantly flapping in a breeze as he stepped forward with ease. So confident that he did not even draw the unusually long katana tied to his waistband. Hitsugaya recognized the hilt well, Hyourinmaru.

"Captain!"

A buxom woman joined his side, rich waves of red-gold hair tumbling down her shoulders. She looked at him as she might an enemy, her grey-blue eyes as hard as shards of flint. She drew Haineko from her side, her fingers eager and willing over the flat side of her blade. He could see the tip of the katana flaking off already into ashes. Hitsugaya shook slightly, his skin quivering like the surface of a cast jelly.

"Ma... Matsumoto..."

At the sound of his voice, the two recoiled, Matsumoto cringing back like a cat that has been surprised by a spray of water. A hand rose towards Kusaka's face, slowly sliding the bone-white mask off. It reminded him of a Hollow's mask, an arrancar's mask during its fully released form. The left side of the young man's face was revealed first, peeking from behind the mask. His lips were set into a flat frown, unhappy and disconcerted.

"Who are..." a deep shudder, "Can't be."

"Kusaka...!" the name came out as a jumble of stifled sob, a hopeful question, a long-kept desire, a simple wish. The fingers holding the hilt of his makeshift soul cutter loosened as he stepped towards the dark-haired captain unheeding of the 10th division officers shuffling to form a tighter noose around him. As he got closer, he saw the scars where his dragon had struck first across the eye and flayed the skin off. He reached out with a hand, blinded by the vision of his long-dead best friend. With dismay he saw the other young man drawing his sword.

"No..."

His face was cast in despair. He looked stricken, horrified as he drew his sword against his best friend for the second time.

-x-

Rukia had been moved to a higher-security cell after the botched rescue attempt. She wasn't sure where she was, only that the light came from above her and that sometimes accompanying footsteps would eclipse her artificial sun. So she was underground, possibly beneath a division office. Certainly it was a wiser plan to have a captain watch over her instead.

She shivered at the thought, hoping it wasn't Ichimaru Gin though he no longer had a place within Soul Society. She reached up to the dim light, her fingers limp and shaking with jolts of reiatsu that were returning to her. She tried to gather the tendrils of energy beneath her fingers and failed. She breathed out a slight whine, a sob though she wouldn't bear the indignity of showing such weakness even by herself. Her soul cutter brushed up lovingly against her mind, soothing her and reassuring her that it would be alright.

'They will come, your brother will come'

'I know'

-x-

It was a memory, he realized.

It was a memory, nothing more and certainly nothing less.

'I'm sorry'

-x-

The sky coiled, stretched and rumbled. And all those who resided beneath it trembled in its awake. It began to rain, a misty veil at first warning people to gather their laundry and the grains they were drying in the night's air. But then the fat droplets of water began to hit the ground, bolts of lightning branching up into the clouds. Without a word, the two dressed themselves quickly and stepped out into the storm, running towards the 10th division building.

-x-

"I forgive you; I forgave you a long time ago." Kusaka gasped, his world becoming perfectly white when Hitsugaya's zanbato ripped through his stomach and out his spine. "...and I'm proud..." the man choked out laughter as he painstakingly placed an arm around the boy's trembling shoulders. "Proud..." the dark-haired false-captain sighed content as the background melted away, the two were the only ones on the rooftop of the tenth division building. "I'm glad."

"Thanks..." With a miserable grimace Hitsugaya jerked the sword in further, burying it in his best friend's body down to the silver-plated guard. A ruby cascade painted the scarred man's chin and neck. His soul cutter dropped from his limp fingers, chilly spiritual energy dissipating as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Hitsugaya placed his forehead against his best friend's chest, eyes closed in concentration as he sought out the elusive heartbeat he hadn't heard in so long. Hyourinmaru lay sprawled on the ground half naked as his two shinigami held each other in a parting embrace, too confused to figure out whether he should be in pain or not. "Trying..." With a sharp grunt the dream world's Kusaka Soujiro braced himself as he was pushed back. Their feet dug into the dark tiles, breaking them, fracturing them, peeling them off the rooftop. And still Hitsugaya did not cease his charging as he gritted his teeth and pushed forward against a short, tower like structure of the tenth division compound. Kusaka struggled for breath, spittle flying everywhere as he sagged forward, the building behind him broken as the white-haired boy's soul cutter dug eagerly into the concrete.

-x-

"Hyou-rin-ma-ru"

-x-

"Hitsugaya!" he stretched his hand out, longer than it should have been, thicker and stronger. And yet he still couldn't reach them. The tower collapse against the force of... what was it? Initial release? Final release? Did it honestly matter anymore?

"Oy Toushiro!!"

Of course, Ichigo was there minutes too late, hours too late, eons too late as they all had been.

He fell head first though it was a short way down. Kusaka landed, unraveling into a dark smoke that laid pinned to the ground by the zambato. Hitsugaya glowed brightly like a dying supernova, spewing white ember from his eyes and mouth as he melted into the katana, just as his fingers caught the edge of the boy's collar.

"Toushiro!!" the smoke cleared as Renji had when he had died and where the two shinigami captains of the tenth division had grappled, a zambato laid piercing the frozen earth.

Hyourinmaru threw himself upon it, not caring how as his arms wrapped around the frozen blade, the skin of his inner arms stuck to it frozen even as the sharp blade cut through his flesh making him bleed clear waters that flowed into the painful fissures upon its surface. "Please" Hyourinmaru bled for him, both blood and tears as he tried to weld the breaking fragments back together in the only way he knew how. For the first time in centuries a weather pattern had developed over Seireitei no matter how false it seemed. It began to snow. "Please." Benihime approached, eyes moist as he laid his ruby eyes upon her, blind, frightened and crazed. He looked as though he was about to die.

-x-

He woke up eventually, just like any other time he had fainted. But strangely he didn't feel the need to embrace an imminent panic attack just about to blow over—must be Benihime's tea, the twins had always sworn that she dumped enough sedatives in the to kill a Vasta lode. He didn't feel as though he had particularly toed the lines of what was normal and what was not.

He stood up, feeling dizzy at the sudden rise in height—so this was what the air felt like up here—Holy. Shit.

He touched his face, especially the eyebrows since they were prime candidates for MIA action when whatever sick freak that decided to do this to him got a hold of people like him. But no, all the hair intact from what he could feel. He would have checked below was he not sure his twisted luck would bring someone on their merry way to retrieve him. He looked at the bottom of his feet, knowing that even a few inches at the heel could have raised him up to unnatural heights. He looked and then set them back down breathing coolly. Then, though he was not proud of it, he screamed.


End file.
